Alien - Prodigals
by Captain Tazer
Summary: The aliens caused the deaths of Hicks, Newt and Bishop, but the Weyland-Yutani Company is not finished with them. Revived physically but not officially, the only chance of them resuming their place in society forces the three to once again face the nightmare that killed them. Set three years after the events of Alien3. Completed! Note: teaser of next story uploaded.
1. Chapter 1

Before you begin reading, please take a moment to note: This fanfic is written mostly from how the events were described in the novelizations of the ALIEN-movies written by Alan Dean Foster (Alien, Aliens &amp; Alien3) and A. C. Crispin (Alien Resurrection). Any inconsistencies that you may, and probably will find to the movies are therefore unintentional, unless I state otherwise. I have otherwise attempted to stay true to the movies as much as possible. Equipment designations, names and other descriptions are also picked up from the books, so if there are any misspellings or wrongly descriptions of something in particular, I cannot take the blame as I have only followed the sources I had available in those books.

Disclaimer: I do not own Alien and I am not making any money on publishing this story. It does not belong to the official story-line; it is simply written as a tribute to the characters and shared between me and those who love them and want to see more adventures.

Enjoy the story…

* * *

Quiet.

It is a word that is synonymous with several situations – many of them were good, but there were some bad cases that could fit that description as well. Most people uses the word as a description for a peaceful hour of the day where the only pleasant sounds heard were the ruffle of leaves in the trees or the songs of a bird in the background. It was those kinds of sounds that helped to calm one's senses - while to others, 'quiet' was just an expression of a not-so-loud moment of an otherwise hectic environment in the middle of a noisy town-square. Those were the good situations – on the other hand, in environments were one could feel insecurity; quietness could instead become quite unnerving.

To the deserted refinery complex constructed on the surface of the planet of Fiorina 16 however, quiet meant nothing but complete and utter silence. The complex had originally been a facility for mining platinum-group minerals built by the Weyland-Yutani Company, but after the ore had run out it had been reformed into a maximum-security prison. It was by that time designated as 'Fury 161' and was meant to hold some of the worst scum of Earth: the murderers, rapists, child molesters and psychos among others. It was a good solution: no law-straight citizen was comfortable with having somebody with a psychological disorder around his own person; it felt good to the people of Earth to know that those kinds of criminals had been shipped off and was isolated on another planet far away from their own neighborhood.

Three years ago the prison had still been active - today it was abandoned and devoid of all human presence. The story the people had been told was that the solitude of the small all-male society had resulted in a stress-related syndrome that made the prisoners revolt and they had instigated a full scale riot that inevitably led to a complete massacre amongst themselves - the wardens and a large number of the inmates had perished. "Good riddance with them." was all that the citizens of Earth had to say about that – none of them really cared about the fate of some felons. They might've been a little more concerned though if they'd known what _really_ had happened.

The true, but secret story was that all the prisoners had been slaughtered by an alien life-form who had arrived there with a crash-landed EEV. The hostile creature was an immigrant from another planet, from a small planetoid formally designated as LV-426, also known as Acheron. There was a sad story involved there as well: there used to be a terraforming colony housing several families – but word had reached Earth that the entire colony had been vaporized in a thermonuclear explosion just a few days before the massacre of 'Fury 161'. Reports stated that an Atmosphere Processing-station had malfunctioned: the cooling systems to the primary heat exchangers had sprung a leak which in turn had resulted in the fusion containment to shut down, and that caused the whole power-station to overload. The investigators reported that there were no survivors.

What the people of Earth didn't know was that those reports had also been sanitized. One colonist actually _had_ escaped the disaster thanks to the aid of a visiting observer, but that information had been classified. The truth was that the alien xenomorph had been indirectly responsible for that incident as well. There was a fear amongst the chairmen that if anybody would listen to the _real_ story from the survivors, it would become a major problem for the Company. Would it come out that the Weyland-Yutani Company themselves had secretly set things in motion for the alien-outbreaks to occur so that they could capture the species for their own researching-departments, their stock would quickly drop to zero. So for the best interest of the Company, they had to make sure that a lid was to be put on every operation that concerned the aliens in order to keep everybody outside the Company oblivious about it. As for the surviving colonist – a little girl named Rebecca Jorden, nicknamed 'Newt' – that was a problem that had solved itself. The unfortunate child had perished when the EEV had crash-landed on Fiorina. From the Company's point of view, this was excellent – it saved them the trouble to secretly having to put her away somewhere in order to cement the 'plausible denial' of all involvement. The adult that had helped her was also dead, but that was another matter all together.

While there was nothing left of the colony on LV-426, the complex of Fiorina had after the incident with the alien been declared a 'write-off', left behind to be worn down by the howling winds and to be torn apart by the indigenous rodents of the planet. The little critters enjoyed the silence, doing what they liked to do best; chewing on power-cables that were a favorite snack, with no two-legged mammals around anymore to chase them off. They knew they could go on undisturbed without keeping their guard up, because this place would stay deserted for a long time ahead….

However, tonight was an exception…

The transport tunnel was wide enough to accommodate giant loading vehicles during the time when the mining-operation was still in effect. The large door that sealed it screamed loudly in protest as it was forced to open on un-maintained and oil-less servomotors. To really point out its objection, it stopped only halfway slid inside the wall, wedging itself stuck and would never move again. It didn't matter to the nine people who entered though; the space that had been cleared was more than enough to pass through. The label on the uniform of the leading visitor said 'Colonel' and he was followed by a very small man - the midget didn't even reach half the height of his superior. Next came four biotechs, two of them radio controlling a pair of high-stalked, motorized sarcophaguses that rolled between the four. Making up the back of the line there were two simple marine soldiers, assigned as security guard to the team and also to escort the last man in the group. All of them were dressed in sterile protective suits with complete face-covering breath-masks, the type used for hazardous areas. Whatever those were meant for protection against the common indigenous carnivorous arthropods, (or lice as those were technically preferred to) that liked to chew on the keratin in their hair or if was meant for protection against something else, nothing did say.

The leading man halted the rest of his team, taking a few steps onward by himself and stopped, then acted like he was sniffing the air. (This was of course impossible to do through the breath-mask.) A more likely explanation could be that he simply surveyed the corridor ahead. Apparently satisfied, he made a half-turn towards his companions.

"Get him up here." The voice was somewhat low, but strict. It had a tone that left absolutely no room for argument. You'd get the feeling that if somebody would try to argue, he would instantly live to regret it. The two marines came up to the colonel, half-dragging the man they escorted with them.

The ninth member of the group was frail-built, which was evident with the protective suit he was wearing hanging sluggishly over his scrawny body. He was neither marine nor a tech - he wasn't even military. He was a convict, the only survivor of the massacre of 'Fury 161' - his name was Robert Morse. The colonel looked him over with obvious disgust. As a military man, he resented the level of lowlifes that this prisoner represented. There was no order or structure among these people; they rather went by primal instincts seeking to cause disorder and chaos. Had the colonel had his way, he would simply execute this man and call it 'mission accomplished'. But ironically, this particular lowlife was actually vital for a success of the mission, so the military man couldn't do away with the felon no matter how much he would've liked to. But that didn't mean he had to tolerate him.

"Morse," the colonel said with a deep and cold, uncaring voice that sounded even more menacing as it was being muffled behind the breath mask. "You know what it is we want. Lead the way."

"I'm still not sure that I should," was the prisoners reply. Had the glaring sights of the colonel's eyes been able to kill, Morse would have been dead on the spot.

"I've told you before that it is unwise to defy me!"

"And it is unwise to defy God," Morse countered. "Remember, God created man after his image. The souls of men are his servants and the bodies are vessels of the souls. When those bodies pass on, the souls move up, move higher and they're being reunited with God, and they should be honored for their service by letting their bodies rest in peace. It is blasphemy to disturb the dead vessels."

"Spare me of that ludicrous superstition!" the colonel spat back. "Those 'vessels' of yours are just husks that are legally dead and officially destroyed – that means we can do pretty much what we want with them without anybody knowing better. And might I remind you that your note of parole depends solely on your full cooperation of this mission! Are you willing to jeopardize that considering what it means for the work of your own 'holy missions' that you keep tiring our ears with talking about?"

Morse thought this over, and evidently he came to a decision: "I think God will find it in his heart to forgive a small little sin in favor for the greater glory of my holy work." He gestured with a hand towards the direction the corridor was leading. "It's this way." The former resident of 'Fury 161' took the lead, flanked by the two marines assigned to keep tabs on him. The colonel and the rest of the group followed close behind. Moving along, one of the soldiers took the opportunity to taunt the felon a little.

"So? Feeling a bit homesick, jailbird?" The soldiers snickered amongst themselves. "Bet you missed this place. How's about we leave you here when we're done? A nice solitary place all by yourself. Only place you ever felt right at home, like a bird in a cage. Am I right?"

"Home, Mr. Crabbe…" Morse started to say wantonly. "…is where your heart is. And my heart is with God and with the holy work that I've got ahead of me. It is with the will of God that I…"

"_Forget it!"_ the marine cut him off, annoyed that his attempt of taunting had failed to strike its mark.

Arriving at the end of the large corridor, they had reached the heart of the complex: the furnace area where the mined minerals during the operational service back many years ago had been melted and processed before being shipped out. Now the furnace was nothing but simply cold dark caldrons, not giving a hint what they were used for to the untrained eye. One of the biotech people, a woman, moved passed the team towards the edge, looking over the entire facility.

"This is it," she said. "The last stand."

"What're you talking 'bout?" the taunting soldier named Crabbe asked, but without being particularly interested.

"It was here my boss hoped to capture the alien life-form that was so rumored. We came just in time to see the beast get destroyed by Ellen Ripley."

"How so?" the dwarf asked her.

"Ripley was actually impregnated herself with the creature," the female continued. "I can still hear my boss pleading to her to surrender to us so we could remove it. But rather than letting us have it, she jumped in there." She nodded towards a dark caldron.

"You mean she killed herself?" the second soldier asked, moving towards the edge to have a look. "Huh, silly broad. Had it been me I would have perforated it with my baby here," indicating his M-41A 10mm pulse-rifle, a standard military weapon.

"Even when it's inside of you? I'd like to see you try that."

"Inside of me? What kind of animal are we talking about here?"

"That's of no concern of yours, Private Dagger," the Colonel interrupted. "Have you forgotten that we're on a classified mission here, Dr Roman? We don't talk about them unless the others have a need to know."

"Sorry, Sir," she said, no sounding a bit embarrassed.

"I might as well remind you all that we are not here for sightseeing," the colonel rumbled on. "We're on a mission, and the only thing that concerns us is the special objects that have been left behind here which we need to collect in order to get on with the next phase of the operation. Everything else is _irrelevant! _Is that_ clear?_"

"Yes, _Sir!_" everybody said in unison.

"Is that clear to you too, Mr. Morse?"

"I'm willing to do what you require of me," Morse replied in a somewhat somber tone.

"Then first take us to the remains of the EEV from the _Sulaco_, and be quick about it! I do not tolerate time-wasting hold-ups or detours. Time is important to this unit! Doing a job within a time limit is what gives this unit its glorifying reputation and I won't have it ruined by some measly civilians who can't appreciate the beauty of organization! Do you get me, Mr. Morse?"

"Clearly, Colonel. This way," Morse said, turning to his right towards a side corridor with the rest of the team following. While the colonel had ordered end of discussion, Private Dagger wasn't about to dismiss the subject yet.

"Hey Roman, what kind of bad-assed creatures are we talking about? If they're so tough, it must be a great challenge to meet one of them."

"They're tough alright. It took only one of them to wipe out all the prisoners here."

"Oh, c'mon, the prisoners had no weapons; sure it was easy for the thing to do that when it didn't meet any resistance?"

"If you think that was the case," Roman answered, tired of the soldier.

"Will we meet any? I'd love to go hand on hand with one of them. He he hee…"

"Well, if we're unlucky, those two which we lost three years ago were the very last ones."

"I said, _enough!_" the colonel roared, this time ending the discussion.

The team now reached an open space. The big area had once been a vast unloading bay - therefore it was surrounded with several cranes and the ground was littered with support blocks of all sizes. But it wasn't the equipment that interested the group – it was the big hulk of the crash-landed EEV that rested quietly in the middle of the tarmac. It wasn't much to look at: most of the bulkheads were smashed in, crumpled and bent. Rust had even taken hold of it during the three years it had been left there. Space vessels used to be rustproof, but when left abandoned and unmaintained in an environment full of moisture, nothing was foolproof – especially when the moisture was vaporized from seawater that was rich with salt particles. The colonel strode up to the entrance of the vehicle.

"Finally! Fixer!" The dwarf came up to his superior. "Get in there," the colonel ordered. "We need the hard-drives of the cryotubes."

"Yes, Sir!" the little man said and went for the battered airlock. Because of his small frame, it was hard for him to get inside as the EEV rested elevated on some support blocks. But with a little effort, he managed to climb in. He hadn't been inside for long though before he stuck his head out again.

"Err, excuse me? From what I been told, we need two specific hard-drives, but there are four tubes in here. Which ones is it I'm supposed to remove?"

"Use your brain, Fixer, you're supposed to be a smart one!" the colonel growled. "If you can't tell which ones we require, then_ take them all out and we'll sort them up later!_ Is that too much for your own imagination to comprehend?! Don't waste our _time!_"

"U-understood, Sir," Fixer gulped and scrambled back inside.

"Civilians," the colonel muttered under his breath.

Crawling on top of the cryotube that was farthest in, Fixer fished out his favorite and most important tool from his utility belt; his polysizable screwdriver. It was a battery-operated motor-driven tool, but its specialty was in the tip: it was a multi composite – layer upon layer of extremely thin titanium plates formed the flat top that would magnetically catch on to the head of the screw that needed to be exerted. If required: a twitch on a knob would move the layers around to either enlarge or shrink the tip so it could fit all sizes. It could also change shape from a flat-form to a star-form. It was a very expensive tool, provided by the Company to all employed technicians – the worth of the poly-driver was much higher than Fixer's contracted life-insurance. The midget technician adjusted the size of his screwdriver and activated its motor to remove the screws that held in place the access plate to the cryo's internal circuitry. He tried to avoid looking down at the tube that was next in line. The cushioned pallet inside of it was discolored with a large brown stain. Fixer winced by the sight of it: it was dried blood. Whatever had happened to the occupant of that tube, it was undoubtedly clear that the damage he'd sustained had been quite severe, and undeniably fatal.

Fixer couldn't allow himself to be distracted by that gruesome sight. Instead he concentrated on finishing his task quickly so that he could get out of the EEV; not just because that the damaged interior disgruntled him – this small space somehow reeked of death – but mostly because he had unwillingly attracted the colonel's annoyance. Fixer was not part of the colonel's military unit; he was employed by the Company. But he had been lent to this group under Company orders since his ingenious and mechanical skills had matched him up to be a perfect candidate for some special on-the-spot engineering they wanted him to do. However he was still required to do his work and to follow the colonel's orders to the letter, just as if he was still back in his own workshop. If word would reach the Company that Fixer for some reason had caused foul-ups, it could earn him a spot on the bad records. Nobody wanted to have his name marked there - it would look bad by the time he reached the end of his active service as it could very well result in a major penalty cutdown on his pension. It was hard to survive on a low pension these days.

Fortunately for Fixer, from the colonel's perspective, that tiny man was an experienced mechanic – he worked fast despite his puny size and had managed to recover all four drives without too much time wasted. Fixer was another 'obstacle' the colonel didn't like to have around him as he too represented the group of people that could never fit within a military unit: too short in height which made him a slow runner, too inferior muscular in the scrawny arms to carry a rifle, too small a frame for a driver's seat to run a vehicle… therefore all in all quite useless. It despised the colonel that this was the kind of people he was obliged to protect as the military fought for the rights and freedom of mankind. That was quite a wasteful effort in the officer's mind. But as long as Fixer could contribute with something useful, like his mechanical skills, the colonel could live with it momentarily – at least as long as the Company took the civilian back when the mission was over. After all, Fixer was there under orders and orders were meant to be followed, even if you disagreed with it. Everything else beside that was an offence to military protocol.

Fixer did not expect some kind of commendation for his accomplished task from the colonel once he was finished and jumped out of the wrecked EEV, and true to the thought he received nothing of the kind. The only thing now that mattered to the military officer was that they could carry on with their mission and it was now the prisoner Morse that would take his wrath if any more delays were presented. The former resident of 'Fury 161' now led them back into the complex, but into a different section this time. There was a circular stairwell that would lead them quickly to their next destination from the area where the EEV was stashed, but Morse had to lead them through a longer rout in order to bring the radio controlled sarcophaguses with them. But soon they had reached their primary destination where they would acquire their main objective.

There wasn't much to what the naked eye could see that would hint what the group was after in the room. It was a cold chamber with several hatches in the wall, most of them standing open and showing empty drawers inside. To the ones who did know what this place was for, it could cause certain uneasiness among those who were uncomfortable around death. But Fixer was the only one present who fitted into that category. The others: the military, the bio technicians and the prisoner had faced quite a number of different deceases in the past (some of them had even caused it) so they were no longer bothered about it. The room was a morgue.

"I hope that the superintendent Andrews really did as the reports said that he would do," the colonel muttered. "Otherwise…"

"Otherwise what?" Dagger snickered. "You would shoot him, Colonel? That's going to be hard since he's already dead. He he hee."

"Who gave you permission to try to be funny, Dagger?" the colonel growled at the underling.

"Sorry sir, couldn't resist. He he hee."

"We'll see if you still find this to be funny with three shifts of peeling potatoes."

"_Aw, but sir…_"

"Shut up, Dagger! We're only wasting time with this. Which ones of these is it?"

"These two, Sir," one of the other biotechnicians; a man named Arnolds said. "The hatches have been welded shut."

"Good. Fixer, cut them open."

Fixer got to work immediately, bringing forward a cutting torch that had been loaded on one of the carriages. It took a few minutes to loosen the hatch, and when he was done he attempted to open it. It wouldn't immediately budge - a hissing sound was instead heard, the sound of air rushing inside to fill out an airless void. One of the biotechs took over as the sound of rushing air silenced, indicating that the inside had been leveled out in pressure, and then he opened the hatch and pulled out the drawer. On it there was a motionless form, covered with a sheet. Dr Roman took the edge of the sheet and pulled it back, uncovering that which lay under it. The colonel nodded in satisfaction.

"Corporal Dwayne Hicks. Even though his face seems to be a bit disfigured, I still recognize him."

"What? You mean it's the _sissy_?" Dagger blurted out.

"I said shut up, Dagger! What's his conditional status, Dr Roman?"

"The freezing temperature is optimal, and his skull doesn't seem to have taken any damage other than his facial wounds. The rest of his body shows damage of impalement through the chest. From what I can tell, his left lung and heart is completely lost and rib-bones were of course shattered in the process."

"That was all anticipated from the reports. We have what we need to patch him up." The colonel turned towards Fixer, who had already started to cut through the other hatch. "Have you got much left?"

"Almost there," he answered. "There, it should open now."

The sound of rushing air was again heard as the process of filling out a void on the other side of the hatch was repeated. Arnolds was immediately ready as the sound diminished, opened it and pulled out the drawer. On it was another sheet, covering a much smaller human form. They uncovered the face and looked down at the small child. Even in death, the little girl still had a childish beauty. But that wasn't what interested the biotechs right now.

"I don't like the look of that bloodied sheet." Arnolds said, and removed the sheet completely.

"_Blast it!_" Roman was now also at the drawers side. "The rumors were true. They _did_ conduct an autopsy on her!"

"How unfortunate," the colonel simply grumbled, clearly not letting the discovery of the violation on the girl's corpse have any affect him. "You can really wonder why? Cause of death was without doubt, she drowned plain and simple. There was no need to cut her open, and definitely not against given orders. That's the most disturbing part: the bodies were to be kept on ice and not to be _touched!_"

"Ripley thought that the child might have been infested…" Roman explained.

"That's no excuse to defy standing orders. What's her status?"

"Temperature's good, but… who knows how long she was outside in the warmth? Being put back in the freezer a second time after being thawed is not good for the quality of the flesh."

"Do you think deterioration of her body and brain might have gone too far to be able to reverse?"

"I can't tell, sir. Not with these puny instruments we have with us here. All the inner organics are in place and we might be able to fix the ribcage – but as I said: the flesh could very well be ruined because of repeated freezing. She's a critical case, I'm afraid."

"We'll see how much attention she requires back up in the ship. All right, bring here the cooling sweepings to cover the bodies and then put them in the sarcophaguses. But carefully, we don't want any more damage to them."

All the biotechs got to work. The colonel turned his back on them and instead walked over to Fixer. The little man cringed somewhat under the officer's stare, but didn't back away. That was good – any signs of weakness earned more and more of the colonel's disrespect, not that he had much respect for civilians in the first place.

"You have one more task to attend to while they take care of these matters," the officer said in his low, commanding voice. "I don't need to remind you what that is?"

"No, Sir, I haven't forgotten." Fixer had to concentrate to keep his voiced leveled. He almost squeaked. "I need Morse to lead me there, though."

The colonel indicated with his head to the two marines to bring the prisoner forward. "One last objective to acquire," he told Morse. "You will lead him to it. After that your usefulness will have reached its end. If you want us to waste the effort on dragging you home with us like the worthless garbage you are, you better not try any deception or do any other attempt to delay us. I do not have any scruples with the thought of leaving you here to rot as I think this place is where you truly belong. The idea of doing just that is actually more tempting than anything else. You understand what I'm saying?"

"I'm certain that in your own way, Colonel, you're a wonderful human being," Morse replied.

"_Get him out of my sight!"_ he ordered his soldiers, obviously somehow insulted. The marines motioned Morse forward, and the group of four left the morgue to fetch their last item on the list. After several turns, they finally reached the end of a long corridor. Opening a large door, they found themselves within the medical wing.

"What are we supposed to fetch here anyway?" the soldier who'd taunted Morse earlier asked.

"I wonder if there are some drugs here left behind?" Dagger wondered aloud, looking around.

"Don't tempt your luck, you dimwit!" Crabbe told him. "I don't know why the colonel is letting you keep your usual brand, but if he catches you smuggling aboard any other illicit contraband on the ship, you can be certain that he will show it up in your rear, and he won't be gentle about it!"

"Well then, tiny," Dagger addressed Fixer. "What _are_ we doing in here?"

"We're here to pick something up that's been left behind," Fixer answered him.

"I already knew that much!" Dagger spat back. "I want to know what _it is_!"

"It is easier to show than tell you, if only I can find it," Fixer said, looking around. Morse just stood back, not offering any help for reasons known only to him. Fixer showed aside a draper. Behind it there was a worktable with a pile of rubble lying on it. At first glance it seemed to resemble some kind of a shattered bust of a human, with fiber-optic cables running underneath it.

"Here it is," Fixer said triumphantly. "We found it."

"What is it?" the soldier asked.

"It's the android Bishop. It was said that it had been left behind here and it was true. What a mess…" Fixer said as he walked in for a closer look. It looked like the indigenous rodents had chewed on those remains as well.

"It's just a pile of _junk_!" Dagger said in a disbelieving tone.

"Yes, it was smashed up so badly when the EEV crashed here. But there's a chance that he can still be salvageable."

"What do you want with a broken android, tiny?" Dagger persisted.

"This is not what I want – it is the Company who wants me to take a crack at fixing him up as it might know something that could be vital to our mission, something perhaps we don't know. And I would appreciate if you didn't refer to me as 'tiny'."

"Oh, and just what do you think you can do about that, _tiny_?"

"You just watch it!" Fixer shot back.

"_Or what?"_Dagger asked meanly.

"We're under orders to pick those remains up!" Fixer explained matter-of-factly. "You want me to tell the colonel that you made me disobey those orders? What would _he_ do to you then, you think?"

"Are you _threatening_ me, you _little punk_?"

"Cut it out, Dagger," Crabbe cut in. "If we are under orders to pick this junk up, then we'll do it. It's not our place to question those decisions and you know it."

"Fine!" Dagger surrendered. "But I'm not carrying any of that shit, it's not my job! Let tiny and the jailbird do it!"

"I'm not going _near _that thing!" Morse protested. "It's an _abomination!_ God created mankind in his own image and gave it the ability to copulate into more images of our lord. That thing is not created after the ways that our lord had intended! It is a false image – it is an insult!"

"You've got a choice, jailbird," Crabbe said menacingly. "Either you'll help tiny carry that junk…"

"Don't call me 'tiny'!" Fixer objected. He was ignored.

"…or you'll stay here and _rot_, just like the colonel said!"

"Why are you testing me like this, O lord?" Morse spoke upwards to the ceiling. "My belief is absolute. I am your humble servant…"

"Oh, do shut up!" Dagger snapped. "You're making my trigger-finger itch! Now take it up and let's go! I've had it with this place!" Morse sighed and scooped up the remains of Bishop, making no more objections.

A half an hour later, the landing craft that had brought the team to Fiorina took off with their acquirements, once again leaving the facility designated 'Fury 161' deserted and quiet.

* * *

Author's notes: Perhaps you are wondering how come the bodies were still in the morgue? All will be revealed in due time.


	2. Revival

Author's notes: Most of the medical-technical references in this and future chapters are inspired and borrowed from various episodes of Star Trek: Voyager and a few other sources – so any credit goes to those writers. The use of 'stem lines' are all taken from the movie _Prometheus_ \- since it is official that it takes place in the same universe I find nothing wrong with using it here.

* * *

Static covered his vision, rendering him blind. Reaching into the core of his mind, he gave a mental command: _Activate optical systems._

A mental thought responded: -_Unable to comply. Optical systems are non-operational_.

He put in another mental command: _Activate hardware diagnostic program. Run conditional diagnostic on optical functions and reboot systems._ A response came back almost instantly, but the message wasn't satisfying.

_-Diagnostic complete: Optical functions have been disconnected. Reboot of optical systems is not an option at this time. _

That left him completely blind. Fortunately he was not programmed to feel panic. He just had to scout his whereabouts using his hands and feet. However he only seemed to be reaching into empty air as he felt nothing to touch.

_Run conditional diagnostic on primary motor functions and reboot systems._

_-Unable to comply. Primary body-motor cannot be found._ _Reboot of primary motor functions is not an option at this time._

No wonder he couldn't feel anything with his hands or feet - he couldn't move at all. Then suddenly a memory came into his electrically bio-simulated mind: the last time he had been active he didn't even have any legs. Those had in fact some time earlier been ripped off… by a creature. A creature he remembered he had found fascinating, but it had been absolutely hostile and remarkably unreasonable. He should be able to remember more, but his predicament interfered with his convenience. He had to do something about that first before he could take his time sort out his memory files. Was there someone around? He called out, or at least he think he did. He didn't hear his voice. He thought to order a diagnostic control on his vocal processor but then thought better against it. His recent experience with his diagnostic program had not proved to bring any sort of satisfaction with his present condition.

To his surprise, the static suddenly began to clear. He had sight again – at least partially. He had no visual in his left eye, and that was because it was missing. He couldn't move his head, so he could only take in what was directly in front of him. Scanning the layout of the room, he reckoned he was in a workshop of some kind and from what he could conclude, the remains of his upper chest had to be mounted and secured on some kind of rack on a workbench. A man stood before him - a small man he noted, and he was smiling at him. The label on his oil-stained and somewhat torn red overall said 'Fixer'. The small man said something, but no sound was heard.

_Activate auditory systems._

_-Unable to comply. Auditory receivers are non-operational._

_Run conditional diagnostic on auditory receiver functions and reboot systems._

_-Diagnostic complete: Auditory receiver functions have been disconnected. Reboot of auditory systems is not an option at this time._

_Christ, doesn't anything in this body work?_ Giving up on his damaged body he concentrated his gaze towards the little man again. The latter repeated his line; still no sound could be heard. But by watching his lips Bishop dared to guess that the small man was asking: "Can you hear me?" Hoping that at least his vocal processor would function, he replied "No".

Something was obviously working because the little man turned away from him and bent over a laptop. He could see that several cables were interfaced to a hub that was plugged in to the terminal, and he guessed that those cables in turn were connected to several of his cranial receptacles. That explained why he couldn't make any contacts with his own systems - this little man whom he guessed was named Fixer had undoubtedly re-routed all the wiring so that he could run everyone of his hardware functions through his own computer. The midget tapped several keys on his keyboard, and then his ears suddenly came online again. He heard the low humming of a distant engine, the type one could hear onboard a starship. He also heard numerous sounds of other things, but he couldn't place any of them. His best guess was that they were different kinds of equipment at work. The little man looked up from the laptop again, now more concerned than smiling.

"Can you hear me now?" Fixer asked

"Yes, I can hear you."

Fixer's face exploded into a wide grin. "Yesyesyes, I did it, I did it! You're working again. What's your service number?"

"Bishop. Serial NR: #1606-2198. But I wouldn't like to call myself 'working.' I seem to be in quite a mess."

"You are not a pretty sight, I'll give you that. But allow me a few days to work with you and then you'll be on new feet."

"I can never be what I once was…"

"Presently, I'm afraid that's impossible."

"…Therefore I'll rather be nothing at all."

"Now, now, Bishop. Don't be such a pessimist. Give me a chance to patch you up first and make your call after that. Besides, synthetics are not supposed to be suicidal."

"I prefer the term 'Artificial person' myself. I am almost afraid to ask, but what is my condition anyway?"

"In a plain simple word: lousy. Only the upper part of your chest from your original body has survived, and the left side of your face has been smashed. There's not much left to repair, I'll have to refit what's left of you with a whole new body."

"Actually I was referring to my personal software. I remember I was suffering a major memory loss." The little man smiled at him again, Bishop guessed that his 'doctor' found something amusing in this whole situation.

"You know for a synthetic, you are quite lucky. In fact, you're luckier than any other man has a right to be." He reached down below Bishop's eyesight and picked up a familiar object. The connected cords to the device was running down somewhere beneath him, outside his peripheral view. "Recognize this?"

"It's a flight-recorder. The one Ripley wanted me to access to find out what had happened since our departure from LV-426."

"And it's been connected to you all the time. And that's your lucky break." Fixer tapped the device with his forefinger. "These self-sufficient military black boxes are equipped with a system that monitors the main computer… oh, and that was in this case you. Should it discover a potential failure in the mentioned main computer, they immediately download a backup-copy on everything that's ever been filed. It's all a military policy, that way they won't risk losing any useful information. Everything that was ever in your brain is now in here."

Bishop's ruined face shined up in typical all-fashioned smile. "I don't know if I could refer to it as 'luck'. It seems more like a matter of convenience."

"This baby here will be your new hard-drive," Fixer continued proudly, again tapping the device with his fingertip. "Your old one is useless now, along with many other of your old parts. I'll have to refit everything."

"In what way?" Bishop asked. "From what I can tell, I am on a ship. In order to have me rebuilt, shouldn't I be in one of the robotic industries factories? Are you a robotics engineer?"

"I am an engineer, but not for the robotic industries. I work for the Company in the master developing facility. Many new ideas that the designers come up with over there often require some innovative on-the-spot retro-fitting of some equipment in order to make the ideas practical. That's when they call for me. In a way I'm actually a bit of inventor."

"And now you are going to invent a new body for me?"

"That's right," Fixer confirmed.

"Why?"

"Why? Because I've been assigned to do it, it's as simple as that."

"No, you misunderstood my question. Why are you going to build me a new body that most likely would be quite different and maybe inferior (no offence,) to my old design? Why not just take me back to the factory to have me rebuilt there? Why this effort on your part?"

"Well…" Fixer seemed to hesitate to answer. "I've been assigned to rebuild you because the Company doesn't want anybody to know that you are being rebuilt. You have been declared as 'classified'."

"I'm afraid that I am even more at loss now," Bishop told the little engineer. "Would you please clarify for me? Why am I declared classified and why does that prevent me from being rebuilt with a new synthetic body?"

"The reason why I can't build you a new body like the one you had before is because that when spare-parts for an android are requested, you need to include the serial-number of the unit for the order to be accepted. And as far as several of the senior executives and stock-holders of the Company are concerned, you ceased to function three years ago. Should your serial-number show up on any records now, it would raise too many questions and lead to investigations that would compromise our mission."

"Three years?" To Bishop, every answer he got right now seemed to lead to an even bigger question. "That's how long I've been inactive? So why is somebody suddenly interested in me now if not before?"

"Since this mission of ours is still classified, there isn't much I can explain. And that's because I haven't been told much about it. Suffice to say though; we picked you up together with your friends that perished in the crash."

"You must mean Corporal Hicks and the little girl. Why?" This didn't make any sense to Bishop. What use were there of dead bodies? "Does Ripley know this?"

"That's just one of the things I have not been told about. I have no idea what they want with them. But I got this funny impression that someone seems to think that those two are somehow possible to revive. As for the one named Ripley, I'm afraid I heard that she is dead."

Bishop didn't experience any kind of shock hearing the news of Ripley's demise. Anyone who'd been out of it for as long as he had would have to anticipate that anything could have happened, especially for as long as three years. So he simply took it all in. "How did she die?" he asked.

"Apparently she incinerated herself in a steel-vat."

"She committed suicide?" Bishop raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Why would she take such an action and kill herself?"

Fixer shrugged. "I don't know. There's some silly talk going around, something about a creature in her gut. It doesn't make any sense if you ask me."

"Then for once I am at an advantage," Bishop said, and Fixer eyed his 'patient' with curiosity. "It makes perfect sense to me."

"Can you elaborate?" Fixer asked.

"No, it _cannot!"_ a new voice suddenly cut in. "That is a need-to-know only, and you are far from cleared to be privy to that information, Fixer!"

"Colonel Decker!" Fixer gasped out. "I-I didn't hear you come in."

"Enjoying your new toy?" the newcomer asked sarcastically.

"Colonel Decker?" Bishop searched his memories. "Colonel Esteban Decker? The commanding officer of the ill-reputed 'Rawhides' marine unit - commander of the USS _Hercules_?"

"Ill-reputed!" Decker sneered at the word. "Choose your words better, _Robot_, or you'll find yourself being scrapped again!"

"My apologies, Colonel," Bishop said. "I really meant nothing by it. It's just the word everybody uses where your unit is concerned."

"That's the word used by the losers and the weaklings in the defense-department."

"Well, you have to find it understandable though. Your successes have been trailed with repeatedly unnecessary use of force involving a mass destruction of private property and a high death toll among civilians that has died by _your_ hands rather than by those you were battling."

"My unit gets the job done, casualties are acceptable."

"Was that your general opinion that time when you passed by the planet Xerona on your way back to Earth? I remember the story: a terrorist had taken twenty people hostage, threatening to kill them all unless the local government relinquished control of the petroleum-refinery over to him. He wanted to take full shares for himself."

"What did they complain about?" the colonel all but growled in response. "We saved their worthless refinery, didn't we?"

"That you did, by blowing up the terrorist along with his twenty hostages." Bishop pointed out with his usual tone of neutrality.

"Minor trivialities. The Company made it its policy to solve problems with as minimal expense as possible. My actions were the cheapest way to solve that problem."

"You also destroyed twenty families. But I guess that didn't concern you?"

"Watch it, _Robot_. I never accept insubordination from my troopers, and neither will I accept it from _you! _And especially not from someone who doesn't even have two feet to stand on! You're an _inferior_, and inferiors only speak when _spoken_ to in my presence!"

It might be a truthful fact that Bishop wasn't at his prime condition right now, but he didn't feel like he deserved to be called an inferior just because of that. Then Fixer interrupted, wanting to end this dangerous discussion. "Is there something I can do for you, Colonel?"

"I did come in to check on your progress. I'm pleased to see that you got it working. Have you brought it up to date with the task we need it for?"

"N-no, not yet. I only just got him activated…"

"But its basic mental functions are operational?"

"My present condition is sadly nowhere near to my favor," Bishop started to report. "All body-movement functions are non-operational due to all of my auxiliary appendages being lost, but my RAM-interpretive capacity is…"

"I didn't ask _you, Robot!_"

Bishop silenced. It appeared that synthetics were even more repulsive to Colonel Decker than they had ever been to Ripley. It had taken a while for the woman to warm up to him but in the end, they had come to an understanding. It didn't seem very likely that the same thing could be done between him and the colonel.

"I managed to save his identity-circuits," Fixer told the colonel. "The basic hardware is re-installed and intact, the rest of his memories are stored in the flight-recorder and the processor is at full analysis-mode. I'd say he's good to go."

"Then bring both it and the hard-drives to the bio-lab. The doctors are waiting."

"What? Right now?"

"Do you have something to object about it, Fixer?"

"No! I just didn't expect this to go so fast, that's all." Fixer unlocked the brakes on the wheels of the worktable Bishop were mounted on and began to roll him out of the workshop.

"Would you mind telling me what's going on?" Bishop asked.

"We need your assistance," Fixer told him. "The doctors are attempting to revive your friends, and they need your help to do it."

"But they're dead since three years. That long a deterioration of their bodies makes the whole process of revival quite impossible."

"The bodies have been frozen and stored in a morgue," Fixer informed the android.

"That does not change anything. Although the process goes considerably slower in an environment below the freezing point, deterioration of the bodies is still in effect. That's the nature of things."

"There's obviously more to it than it sounds like, but please don't ask me to elaborate." Fixer answered. "I'm just an engineer, not a biologist."

Fixer rolled in the worktable with Bishop on it into the medical lab, Colonel Decker followed inside behind them. Dr. Roman was there together with her staff, all of them clad in surgical gowns complete with a head-dress, waiting for them.

"I see you got the android working. That's excellent," she said. "Bring it up here; we will begin with the corporal." Dr. Roman was indicating to the sealed sarcophagus that stood next to a computer console. "Have you got the hard-drives?"

"I got them right here," Fixer confirmed to the doctor, picking one up from a shelf underneath the bench Bishop was mounted on.

"Connect them to the android."

"Excuse me, but I would appreciate if you didn't speak about me as if I just was some kind of a mindless automaton," Bishop cut in. "I may be immobile, but my brain-functions are on-line and I am fully capable of interacting and quite able to communicate with you. You obviously need me for some special task; well, it would be more efficient if you spoke directly to me instead of through a third party. So why don't you just explain to me what it is you're attempting to do here? For starters: how is it that you think that you can revive Corporal Hicks and the little girl? The three-year deterioration alone would make such a task impossible, even if the bodies have been frozen under all this time."

Dr. Roman looked quite miffed with being reprimanded by an artificial being. But she was a professional and therefore she recognized the means of efficiency, especially in a delicate process like this.

"To begin with:" Roman started to explain with a forced patience. "The bodies have not been stored by ordinary standards in that morgue. The compartments were vacuum-sealed. There's nothing like vacuum to preserve a genetic specimen."

"That changes the situation a bit," Bishop said, although he was not entirely convinced. "But how will you compensate for cellular necrosis? It may still have degraded the neural pathways too much for a possible revival after their brain functions ceased. There was some time after the crash that killed them before they were put in the morgue. It's all in the flight recorder that now serves as my hard-drive."

"Then perhaps you should access the encrypted files of the recorder?" Roman said somewhat superciliously. "I also recall that you are a bit of a scientist yourself. Surely you know that the human brain survives about six minutes after death occurs?"

"Accessing. Stand by…" Bishops single eye performed an eloquent roll in its socket. "You're right. The flight recorder confirms that the cryotubes detected failure of all biological functions… it automatically injected a kinesthetic agent into the cerebral cortexes of the dying passengers designed to simulate a neural-electric field to keep the brains from necrotizing."

Dr. Roman nodded in confirmation. "That compound has of course dissolved long ago, but it should have held on long enough until the bodies were put in cold storage."

"I didn't know about that safety measure!" Bishop said almost astonished.

"You don't think the Company tells you everything, do you? It's classified!" Roman went on. "Granted, it's still experimental and is only tested right now to the benefit of military personnel, not for commercial tugs. This is the first time we can view results of that technique and see for ourselves that it may actually work. Now as we thaw up the bodies, we continue to stimulate the brains of the two subjects with neural-electric pulses to simulate metabolic activity, but of course there's no brain functions at work. This is where we need your help."

"What is it that you require of me?" Bishop asked.

"The brain is the key," Roman said. "It's like a computer that is in constant communication with the rest of the body. While we can simulate neural activity with stem lines inserted in the neural pathways, the body will not take it up by itself to begin the healing process without a confirmation from the brain." Roman picked up one of the hard-drives that Fixer had collected from the cryotubes of the EEV and held it up in front of Bishop.

"You do know that the hyper-sleep capsules can actually 'see' what the occupant is dreaming so that it can monitor heart-rate activity and such? Military capsules are even more advanced – it records everything that goes on in the sleepers mind. Oh and by way, that is also classified information. It also records the individual's _brainwave-pattern_! And it is the brainwave-pattern that you need to isolate and – shall we say – re-install into the corporal's brain. The pattern is like a license key in a computer: the healing process of the body won't kick in until it corresponds with the brain's own unique signature to confirm."

"I hear you." Bishop was both fascinated and excited. "Plug me in to the hard-drives. I'll find Hicks' pattern as well as the girl's."

"About time," Decker muttered in the back. He'd found all this talk a waste of time and effort. It would have been easier if the robot had just obeyed orders in the first place without questioning their motives. Neither was he comfortable with all the classified information that had been revealed by Dr. Roman to convince the robot. He would have a talk with the Company and the Colonial Administration about it as soon as the mission was over.

The excitement of the whole procedure had also got to Fixer. He quickly multi-connected the four hard-drives and plugged them into Bishop's cranial receptacle.

"I'm in," Bishop reported. "I'm probing the hard-drives now. Stand by… I believe I got a brainwave-pattern here. Searching… isolating… cancelling."

"You cancelled it? Why?" Roman asked.

"That pattern belonged to Corporal Hudson. It means that one is the hard-drive from the cryotube that I was placed in. Since I'm a synthetic, the system didn't bother to re-arrange the information between the other capsules to match it to the sleeping occupant. To it, I was an inert matter that didn't need to be monitored."

"Then skip that drive and start to probe the next one."

"I already am. There doesn't seem to be that much information stored in this one… a brainwave-pattern is recorded though… attempting to isolate… Yes!" Bishop's tone was triumphant. "This is the girl's pattern. It's Newt! There's not much recorded because her short life didn't leave much to record – but everything's there."

"Save that pattern in your buffer," Roman instructed. "Then proceed to the next drive."

Bishop had already done just that, but he didn't feel the need to tell that to the doctor. As he was now getting used to how to proceed, he quickly located another brainwave-pattern in the third hard-drive. He didn't save it though as he discovered that it belonged to Ripley. With her being dead and not around, there was no need to isolate it. That meant that the fourth hard-drive belonged to Hicks. He isolated the pattern, stored it in his buffer and reported to the biotechnicians that he was ready for the next phase.

Dr. Roman had Fixer roll Bishop over to the sarcophagus. The biotechs removed the lid of the coffin-like capsule and revealed the body of corporal Dwayne Hicks. It took someone with a highly tolerable stomach to see him. His face showed signs of scorch-marks where the corrosive fumes from a xenomorph's acidic blood had burned him. His damaged chest had been only temporarily sealed; would they be successful in reviving him, they would do a more extensive surgery on him afterwards since his left lung was a total loss after him being impaled by a support strut in his cryotube. The only thing they had done on him so far was to surgically implant an artificial heart. If revival would turn up to fail, then at least they had not had wasted that much time and expenses for a lost cause. Electrically charged needles were inserted all over his body into his nerve fibers that simulated neural activity.

"Okay, Bishop." Dr. Roman said. "Your brain is designed as an artificial duplicate of the cerebral cortex of a real human. Thanks to that fact, you should have the ability to alter your own brainwave-pattern to imitate someone else's temporarily. I want you to change your 'frequency' into that of Hicks', and then we will relay your synaptic activity and link it directly into the corporal's brain. We will then use the defibrillator to jumpstart his new heart. Hopefully his organs will detect the brainwave-pattern you're providing in his brain and receive the impulses to stay activated. At the same time as we can make the blood pump into the brain again, the familiar pattern should be re-inserted and take over completely."

"And Hicks should be alive again – theoretically. Of course, there is a potential risk that his brain won't cooperate." Bishop brought up another problem that hadn't been discussed. "His mind probably suffered a tremendous shock when the body was damaged to such extent that it can't look past the fact that it has expired. If a mind is so convinced that it is dead, then it cannot function again."

"Ordinarily that is true." Dr. Roman confirmed. "But fortunately we have another factor in our favor. Both of the subjects died while being under a controlled form of hibernation. They were under such deep sleep that their brains were almost already shut down, and the two of them never knew what hit them when death occurred. We are therefore convinced that the brains never went into the state of shock of expiration, so revival is still theoretically possible."

Had Bishop been able to, he would nod in agreement. He should have figured that out for himself, had he taken the time to look through all the data in the recorder. There might be time for that later, he thought. Right now there was more important work to be done.

"I'm accessing Hicks' pattern in my buffer… adapting… there! I am now simulating Hicks' brain-frequency. Make the connection."

The connections were made. The biotechs stood anxiously and watched the monitors that registered synaptic activity in the pathways of the corporal's inactive brain. At first there was nothing – and then…

"There!" Arnolds almost shouted. "A synaptic signal is detected within his brain!"

"The defibrillator!" Dr. Roman ordered. One of the other biotechs, a surgeon whose nametag labeled 'Peters' put the shock-pads on Hicks' chest. "Clear!" he said and pressed the buttons on each of the handles to open the circuit. Hicks' body jumped from the electrical charge. "No response." Arnolds reported.

"Again!" Roman urged. Dr. Peters repeated the shock.

"Still nothing… Wait! I think…" Arnolds went quiet for a while. And then… "His body is responding to the signals! The heart is beating!"

"Stimulate the alveolar sacs in his lung! We need to start diffusion!" Arnolds activated some switches, a few seconds passed… Suddenly everybody heard a loud intake of air being sucked into a throat. Hicks' chest heaved. He even groaned.

"Quickly, activate the life-support! He is not adapted to breath with only one lung and his wounds are not properly treated - he could die again!"

A breathing mask was quickly put over Hicks' face, other switches were thrown and several mechanical instruments instantly took control over the patient's respiratory system. It looked critically for a moment when pain-receptors lit up the warning-lights on the console like a Christmas-tree as his body reacted to the injuries he had sustained. He was quickly sedated and the misfortunate corporal fell into a controlled coma that spared him of the immediate agony. He was in deep unconsciousness – but he was alive.

"That was tense," said Dr. Roman, letting out a deep breath and wiping her brow with her arm. "We'll let him stabilize for a while before we take him to surgery. Thanks to the fact that all soldiers leave blood-samples for testing of various infections, we have been able to grow him a new lung in a lab using his DNA. Now all we have to do is to transplant it." All biotechnicians knew of this of course. It was for Bishop she divulged this information. "While we wait, we should repeat the procedure; this time for the child."

"I am ready," said Bishop.

The preparations for the attempt to revive the child were exactly the same as with the corporal. The little girl lay motionless in her sarcophagus with another set of stem lines inserted into her nerve fibers – it wasn't pretty to look at. Bishop had already changed the frequency in his mind to match her brainwave-pattern.

"Did we manage to suck all the seawater out of her lungs?" Dr. Roman asked.

"We've triple-checked it." Arnolds said. "It's all gone."

"The question now is if this will work." The doctor's voice was filled with doubt.

"Why don't you believe it will?" Bishop asked her.

"Because she was brought out of her cold storage for a moment and an autopsy was then conducted on her. Being out in the warmth might have thawed her brain too much – the compound injected in her cerebral cortex by the cryotube may have dissolved prematurely before she was frozen again. We can't tell, but cellular necrosis in her neural pathways may have gone too far – and if it has, she is lost."

"Let us believe that is not the case," Bishop said, being the voice of hope. "Hook me up. Let's not give up on her until we tried."

Synaptic connections were made. A signal was being detected by the monitors, the defibrillator was used. Just as with Hicks, the small heart started to beat of its own. Alveolar sacs were stimulated and life-support was connected. Everybody held their breaths.

"We did it," Arnolds said after a while studying the readings of Newt's vital signs. "She's alive."

"Her body may be alive, yes." Roman said, watching the monitors. "But that could be just an automated activity. The question remains: are there any other brain functions? For all we know, she could be brain-dead."

"We'll keep an eye on her progress," Arnolds stated.

"Yes. She now requires some treatments too. We need to do some repair on her ribcage as it was cut and pried apart. So let's prepare both of them for surgery" She turned to the rest of her staff and to the other occupants of the bio-lab. "Well done, everyone. This will make an interesting report to the medical convention should this ever be declassified. Thank you for your assistance, Bishop. We'll handle the rest from here."

"Glad to be of service," Bishop replied. Fixer began to roll him out towards the door. The dwarf was quite exhilarated. "Wow. That was both exciting and a bit scary at the same time."

"Yes," Bishop agreed. "But it was also gratifying."

"I really hope your friends will make it, after all the work you did to help them."

Bishop was about to answer, but then he and Fixer found their way blocked by Colonel Decker.

"Your assignment aboard this ship is fulfilled, Fixer," said the colonel, completely emotionless. "You are therefore dismissed. Since the rest of this mission doesn't really concern you, you may remain in the workshop doing your tinkering. Personally, I would prefer if you reported to the cryogenic deck and remained in hyper-sleep until we return to Earth."

Fixer felt an apprehensive feeling wash over him. This wasn't just a dismissal; it was the colonel's way of telling him that the engineer was not wanted on his ship. Granted, if he was unwanted, it would have been easiest for all parties if he just went to hypersleep and got out of Colonel Decker's hair. But Fixer had grown a bit weary with his all-day ordinary life. It was bad enough that his short height made him a target for taunting behind his back, but life never seemed to want to give him a break otherwise either. Fixer had felt adventurous for some time now, and although it appeared that this was just some kind of a science mission, it was an adventure just to travel through space to parts as yet unknown. Fixer knew that his decision would come to attract the colonel's displeasure, but he didn't want to let go of this. Fixer was after all a civilian, and civilians weren't always obliged to obey military orders.

"If you don't mind, Colonel, I'd like to stay around and finish my work with Bishop here."

"You may remain in the workshop doing your tinkering," Decker repeated. "But your work on the robot is to be discontinued."

"Why?" Fixer asked.

"Simply put: its usefulness has come to an end. We don't need it anymore. Deactivate it and throw it in the scrapheap!"

Bishop said nothing. He may be a sentient synthetic in all sense it could be described, with the ability to think, analyze and take own decisions, but that only went as far as his program allowed. In all other basics, he was but a product - a servant. He would not argue for the preservation of his own existence. If the colonel made the decision that Bishop's 'life' was to be terminated, he would accept it. It was actually a bit of wishful thinking on Bishop's part as well to be deactivated, as he still was not sure that he could ever be once again as he once was before his body had been destroyed. Deactivation may still be preferable. He only felt pity though that the decision of his termination was based on an irrational dislike for him from the military officer rather than a compassionate act. But it shouldn't come as a surprise. Androids were generally disliked all over the galaxy – no one would ever take up an argument on their behalf's, or for any of their benefits at all for that matter since synthetics didn't have anything like that in the first place.

"I must object to that, Colonel," Fixer said. "He doesn't deserve to just be wasted after what he's done here for his friends! And besides, we still need him."

"_I_ don't need any _robot!_"

"B-but it is not your decision to make, Colonel!" Fixer stammered. "I've got orders from the Company: I am told to rebuild Bishop in the best manner I can muster so he can go with you on your survey missions! The Company wants him to record any findings and then be returned for analyzes! It all says so in your dispatch orders!"

"I _know_ it says so!" Decker growled furiously. "I had simply hoped that _you_ didn't know that it did! I could have gone on with my mission without that _junk-pile_ in tow and without compromising my instructions if you just didn't finish your work with it! Now I seem to be left with no choice but to bring it with me!" Decker wagged a finger at the small engineer and spoke slowly: "You better make sure that that heap of scrap-metal doesn't get in my way, or I'll make sure you'll regret it for the rest of your miserable life!" Decker then just left the bio-lab, leaving Fixer trembling and sweating all over with the colonel's threat still hanging over him.


	3. Refit

The _Hercules_ continued on its journey through space away from the planet of Fiorina towards a destination that has yet to be revealed. On any other mission it would have been insufficient and a waste of resources to have any personnel on active duty while the ship was on route - but on this occasion it was necessary to do so as the doctors needed time to treat their patients. Three days had now passed since the casualties of the crash-landed EEV from the _Sulaco_ had been revived – but of the four original crew-members that had been ejected into space within it three years earlier, only one of them was active, although still immobilized. Two of the other passengers were still unconscious - one of them was uncertain if she would ever wake up again. The last listed person was not even aboard the ship as she was permanently lost, having killed herself all those years ago by jumping into a melting furnace and letting herself be incinerated.

As for the only conscious passenger, (if he now could be regarded as conscious since he was an artificial being,) he was still in the process of being rebuilt. Bishop had been stuck inside of the _Hercules_' workshop ever since he'd assisted the doctors in the bio-lab – his present condition didn't allow him to leave on his own accord, and besides Colonel Decker had made it absolutely clear that he did not want the synthetic anywhere else on the ship.

Bishop was not mounted on the rack anymore as he had been earlier - instead he lay on his back on a bigger stationary workbench, being able to do nothing else but to stare up at the fluorescent tubes in the ceiling that illuminated the whole room. He didn't know much of what Fixer was doing to him, the little man wanted to keep it to himself for reasons Bishop couldn't comprehend. The short-grown mechanic was right now busy in the corner of the workshop, welding something. Had Bishop been programmed with such a particular feeling within his RAM-interpretive chip, he would feel downright bored with his present predicament. He wasn't in total idleness though. He had asked Fixer to hook him up to a computer with a news network to allow him to catch up on what had transpired on Earth and around in the galaxy while he had been inactive on the prison-planet. Fixer who'd found no harm in such a request had given in to the synthetic's wish.

Poor Fixer. Bishop hadn't liked to deceive him like that. Fixer was a good man and an excellent engineer, but his weakness was that he was a little naïve. Bishop had indeed reviewed the events of the three years that had gone by, but that had never been his main intention. After he'd done that, he had through satellite signal relays hacked into the Network that belonged to the Company. Usually he would never go in there without authorization, but while he had earlier been connected to the hard-drives from the cryotubes, Bishop had taken the opportunity to assimilate almost everything that was written on them; especially the recorded thoughts that had belonged to Ripley. It wasn't like he had intended to be snoopy; the synthetic had simply wanted to honor her memory by learning everything he could learn about her. Naturally Ripley's most distinguished memories had been about her encounters with the xenomorphs as well as the loss of her biological daughter, and finally her recently developed maternal feelings for the little girl Newt. But 'viewing' Ripley's horror-full events with the aliens from her own point of view had actually made Bishop grow concerned, so he had decided to take up one of the last requests she had made to him the last time they had talked: to find out what the Company really wanted with those creatures.

Once inside the Network, he undertook a massive sophisticated search through the maze of the secured channels and he made sure to mask his signature as well as IP-number to avoid detection by the firewalls. The anti-virus programs had advanced considerably since the last time he'd been in contact with the Network, and that time he had not had any reason to be sneaky about his visit. To trick those programs not to attack him he had to rewrite his parameters into pretending to be a sub-program that belonged to the Central Network - that effort gave him what in human terms could be described as a headache; but it was all worth it. Bishop had managed to access the files of the hidden corporate operations, and he had not liked what he'd found there. First he had made a backtrack of the history and classified information that had been filed there, and then he cross-referenced them with some vague notes and rumors to finally correspond those to Ripley's memories that were written on the hard-drive. He even did that to some of Newt's. Afterwards, Bishop believed that he had finally deducted what the obsession with the alien creatures had always been about.

He felt a pang of sympathy and sadness for all the people whose lives had been lost in the Company's unethical attempts to acquire the specimen – for the crew of the _Nostromo_, who were the first to pick up the alien – for the colonists of LV-426 and for the soldiers under the command of Sgt. Apone, Hicks' team. He even felt sad for the prisoners of 'Fury 161' – all of them had been expendable, and it had all been because of one primitive and practically unattainable goal.

Even the crew of the _Hercules_ was considered expendable – Bishop had managed to uncover what this classified mission was about, and he found it doubtful that they would succeed even this time, taking into account of the experiences of previous attempts that had shown to be fruitless. Bishop wondered if Colonel Decker was aware of the danger they were headed into. To try to express him a warning or any form of recommendations for caution though would be futile; the colonel had on several occasions shown that he would never listen to a mere machine.

There were only two courses of actions that could be taken. The most logical and effective choice would be via his interface to the network to commandeer the ship by remote control and make them turn around. It would be easy: the soldiers aboard the _Hercules_ were still in hypersleep, and none of the biotechs would have the experience to disconnect him. The only one who would be able to hinder him was Fixer, but Bishop was certain that he could convince him to step back. Unfortunately, commandeering the ship was not an option when considering Bishop. It wasn't just because he was at the moment immobile; it was because Bishop after all was a product of the Company. His program wouldn't allow him to take any action against them, no matter how much he disagreed with their affairs. There was therefore only one course of action left that Bishop could take in order to save lives. It was unavoidable. Hicks would not be happy about it once he would wake up and find it out.

Not happy at all.

* * *

At that moment, Corporal Dwayne Hicks did wake up, and he woke up in a world of hurt. He was certain that the headache he had was about to split his head in two, unless the agonizing pain he felt in his chest didn't kill him first.

As he tried to sort out his bearings, the horrifying memories resurfaced in his mind. He recalled his mission, his team under the command of Sgt. Apone and directed by the incompetent Lieutenant Gorman moving into the complex of Hadley's hope on LV-426, or Acheron as the colonists called it.

_The colonists. God, poor devils!_ The soldiers had found them under the processing station, encased to the walls with some glue-like membrane, their chests ripped open from the inside. And then the monsters were all over them. Those horrible monsters that seemed to be all teeth! Monsters that would not be found in your worst nightmares because they were a lot _worse_ than your worst nightmare. His whole team was gone - taken by those dreadful creatures. If only he could've helped them.

_You can't help them! They're being cocooned, just like the rest._

Those were Ripley's words. Ellen Ripley. Where was she now? Had she returned from the station? She'd gone in there to save the little girl, little Newt. _The poor little child._ Were they still waiting for her? How long until it blows? If only he could have gone down there with her. But he was badly hurt, that last alien he'd killed had bled its acidic blood on him, on his armor – and then the corrosive fumes had burned his face. That had really hurt, and it was still hurting. Bishop. Call for Bishop. He had to go after Ripley and the girl. They had to get out of there. _Damn the pain. _His chest was burning, he had some trouble breathing and he couldn't remember what had happened afterwards. Had he gone after Ripley? Was he back down in the processing station? He discovered that he couldn't move and neither could he see. To his horror he realized that the aliens must have captured him. They had trapped him to the wall, and infested him. That's why he couldn't move, and that's why his chest was burning with pain. _A monster. There's a monster in my chest that's chewing its way out. I don't want to die like this. Kill me! Somebody, please kill me!_

"I believe he's coming to, although his words are not what I really expected to hear."

A woman's voice. Ripley? _Thank goodness, I was only dreaming._ By the smell of the sterilized environment, he realized that he must be in a sickbay, and Ripley must be there with him. He needed to see her; he had to open his eyes. It proved to be a bit difficult, but he saw some light, a blinding light. Someone was bending over him. He concentrated his gaze onto the figure, which was difficult. The left side of his face was covered with bandage after the incident with the alien. He tried to focus trough the small opening over his eye… and then he froze, his eyes became instantly wide open. He actually preferred the monsters before this being that stood before him.

"MY GOD! PLEASE TELL ME I'M JUST DREAMING!" Hicks wanted to scramble away from the sight before him, but he found that he couldn't. He was strapped onto the bed.

"No Corporal, this is reality," was the unwanted reply. The figure that was clad in a dark brown leather-uniform had a hard-edged face; his gray-stained hair was thin lined with a bald spot on top of his dome. His expression was unfriendly and his voice was stone cold. Hicks knew this man since before. It was a man he actually hated.

"Colonel _Decker_?" he gasped.

"I take it that you are not happy to see me? That's good. As you know perfectly well, that's the way I like it."

"B-but what in heaven's name are you doing aboard the _Sulaco_?" Hicks asked, still in shock.

"I'm not, and neither are you. You're aboard the USS _Hercules_: my ship. That means you're under my command now!"

"T-the _Hercules_? With the 'Rawhides'? What is this? What am I doing here? The Colonial Administration can't just transfer me back to your unit without signed orders, I have not been _briefed_ about that! You have no legal jurisdiction to order me around; you are _not_ my commanding officer anymore!"

One side of the colonel's mouth crawled closer to his cold eye. According to Colonel Decker's reputation, smiling was something that he never did, unless he'd found something in another man's misfortune that would work in his favor. That was one of the few things in the galaxy that actually amused him. It scared Hicks that the colonel smiled now – it meant that something terrible must've happened.

"I got news for you, Corporal." The colonel moved closer towards Hicks, now smiling with both sides of his mouth. A chill moved down his spine. He knew that he wasn't going to like this.

"You're a dead man, Hicks. As far as the rest of this universe is concerned, you no longer exist. That means nobody knows that you are onboard this vessel – and that means there's nothing to stop me to do anything I want with you even if I don't have the legal jurisdiction to do so."

"I'm… dead? What do you mean? What happened to me? The last thing I remember I was on the dropship outside the Atmosphere Processing Station on LV-426 and…"

"Your questions are a nuisance to me, Corporal!" Decker interrupted harshly. "You will cease with them! They are as uninteresting as they are irrelevant! You only need to know one thing, Hicks: signed orders or not, you are to fall in and obey my every command. Is that understood?"

"But I don't understand what…!"

"_Enough_! This discussion is terminated!" The colonel turned his back on Hicks and headed for the door. "I expect him up and about and fit for duty shortly, Dr. Roman," he called over his shoulder.

"That may take some time, Colonel," was the woman's reply. Decker stopped in his tracks and turned towards her.

"Time is something I don't give freely, Doctor! You know the timetable we got, so I have _no _intention of giving _anybody_ another second more! So you make sure that he's on his feet by the time we reach our destination or there will be hell to pay!" Without waiting for another reply, he left; leaving thousands of unanswered questions rattling inside Hicks' mind.

"What is going on here anyway?" he asked in confusion.

"A dispute of medical treatments, that's what's going on." The woman's voice again. Hicks surveyed the room, found its owner. The woman was of average height, around her mid-thirties. Her blond hair was cut short like a dome around her skull and she was keeping her hands in the pockets of a white coat. She was probably some kind of a medtech. Hicks could have found her beautiful if it weren't for the typical none-smiling expression of a scientist plastered on her face, the one that could be found on most of the people who worked for the Company. He wondered if _he_ always wore that expression during missions.

"Could you please tell me what has happened? Why am I hurting so much in my chest?"

The woman Dr. Roman hardly looked at him; she kept her eyes on the bio-screens beside his bed. "Let's just say that you been through a serious trauma, and you are right now recovering from surgery."

"What sort of trauma? Can't you be more specific?"

"No. You are not ready to hear the details."

"Bullshit. I'm a marine soldier, I'm ready for anything."

"Even a marine has to follow his doctor's directives. You need to rest, so that your body can heal."

"I can accept that if only I knew the details! And why am I strapped down to this bed? Are you afraid that I might run away?"

"It is for your own safety. While you were asleep you were thrashing around like a maniac. We had no choice but to strap you down. Otherwise there was a potential risk that you would hurt yourself."

"Well, but now I'm awake. You can remove these restraints."

"No will do. You'll stay there until I say otherwise. I'm quite aware of what type of patients you marine-soldiers usually are. You're not exactly known for taking us doctors all that seriously."

Most of Hicks's patience had gone down the drain by now. This doctor was too much by the book for his liking. "Never mind about that! Listen Doc, I've just been through a rough experience and then I wake up with this excruciating pain in my chest and a man I never wanted to see again tells me that I am dead! Do you really expect someone to take those words for granted without even being explained to as to how that happened? If no one around here will tell me then I'll…."

Hicks lost himself in his mid-sentence. Back in the far end of the sickbay another door had just opened and another medtech, a male one stepped out. But the man himself was of no interest to Hicks - he had instead gazed past him, looking into the other room from which the medtech had emerged. It was dimly lit, bathing in a weak red light. Some kind of transparent tank stood in the middle of that room filled with a strange-looking colorless fluid. Thin mechanic arms moved inside of it, working on a motionless figure that was secured completely submerged halfway down to the bottom of the tank. The figure was small-sized and pale. The only thing moving was long strands of honey-blond hair, floating slowly around the angel-like face whose mouth and nose was covered with a breathing mask.

"_Newt!_" Hicks gasped out in recognition, feeling a sensation of anxiety and a deep concern grip his stomach. "What happened to her?"

Roman looked back, motioning Arnolds to shut the door, but the damage was already done. "Hurt badly in the same accident as you," she told her patient. "But her damage has after some particular reasons resulted in becoming much more severe than what we had first anticipated."

"Will she be all right?" Hicks asked concerned.

"We don't know yet. Her condition is stabilized but still critical."

_ She got out from the complex. Ripley rescued her._ Hicks' thoughts were spinning around his mind. _Then where is Ripley? _He asked Roman this, but the reply he got just added more fuel to his frustration and helplessness. "Ripley is of no concern for you anymore," she simply told him.

"She is, damn it! My team was in charge of her protection as well of Newt's. As far as I'm concerned I'm still following those orders until I'm relieved of them."

"Consider yourself relived of them then."

"Bullshit! I haven't received my new orders yet." Hicks felt himself really losing his temper now. The medical computer noticed that too, as it began beeping.

"You better calm yourself down, Corporal. Or I'll have to sedate you."

"You can sedate me all you want, but it won't change the fact that I demand answers to my questions!"

"So be it." Roman reached under the bedside-table, grabbing a syringe and injected it into the nutrient drip-hose of the IV-unit that was connected to Hicks' arm.

"Wait a minute, I didn't mean it!" Hicks objected.

"But I did," Roman answered shortly and removed the needle. Hicks started to thrash around, desperately trying to get off the bed and not to fall asleep. "I want to know what has happened! Where is Ripley?"

"You'll feel better after some rest. Consider it to be doctor's orders."

"WHERE IS RIPLEY?" Hicks demanded again, but Roman had left his bedside, ignoring him completely. Hicks felt his body going numb, his eyelids growing heavy. He cursed everybody around him under his breath before he went under; going back to the bad dreams had plagued him for the past days.

Roman went over to Arnold's side, studying his neutral expression on his badly shaved face. He was slightly taller than her and around her own age.

"You have a bad habit on choosing the most inappropriate time to show your face," she told him. "His condition does not allow him to concern himself for any more people."

His reply was defensive. "How was I supposed to know he was awake? Am I to knock on the door every time I want to exit?"

"That's not a bad idea. Have you got anything new to report?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." He held forward a thin paper-strip from a computer printer. On it was three wave-lines drawn all the way along from beginning to end. "This is the latest read-out of the Electro-encephalogram. The top line is what was registered by her cryotube before the accident, and the second is her current pattern."

Roman studied the paper and nodded in satisfaction. "The two patterns are identical, while the bottom-line of her R.E.M. readings are erratic. That means that there are certainly different activities going on in there. Dreams that do not seem to be pleasant, but she's definitely aware of them. Lucky girl, she's not brain-dead after all."

"Lucky for the Company too, I suppose," Arnolds said. "They certainly were not happy about that we had to put her inside the E.I.S. unit. It's an expensive procedure that would have gone to waste if there was nothing left worth saving."

"Tell me about it," Roman said as they entered the other room where the child was being treated. "The Electro Impulse Stimulation unit is solely reserved for wealthy people who can afford it. One procedure alone costs up to two million big ones. No one is happy to raise that kind of money unless they expect to get something back for them." She peered inside the tank for a closer look under the motionless form. The mechanical arms kept putting thin needles in and out along the little girl's body; the low electric charges stimulated the nerves to force the body to regenerate the frostbitten cells of her skin. One could think of it as a kind of acupuncture, only it was all computer-controlled.

"How much longer is the estimated time for the treatment to be finished?"

"One more day to work on the flesh, then we'll take her out of there. The Company declined the work on her rib-cage; it will have to heal on itself."

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Roman said un-concerned. "The Company is as good as broke, charity goes a long way down on the list. Not that charity's ever been close to the top of the list in the first place where the Company's concerned."

* * *

Fixer had worked overtime since his breakthrough with getting Bishop back online. His excitement had given him a high amount of energy to last through the days that had gone by without almost any sleep and only taking quick mouthful of some sandwiches to replenish his nutrients. It was after having gone after another sandwich that Fixer now got back to the workshop where Bishop involuntarily resided, laying on top of the workbench.

"Hey, Bishop! I got some great news for you!" Fixer said as he entered the shop, sounding excited. "I just heard from the doctor's assistants that your friend the corporal regained his consciousness a few hours ago, and they confirmed that the girl is now expected to live! Isn't it great?"

"Thank you for telling me, Fixer," Bishop said, sounding just as calm and neutral as he ever used to sound.

"Err… you don't' sound particularly excited about it," Fixer said, now confused. "You were happy that you could help them to be revived; so aren't you glad that it all went well?"

"Under any other circumstances I would be," Bishop replied still with a flat voice. "But I'm no longer so sure that I did them a favor when I helped to do so."

"How could saving their lives not be doing them a favor?"

"I read their recorded thoughts and memories while I was connected to the hard-drives. I needed to do that to find their brainwave-patterns. I discovered that Hicks has a history with Colonel Decker and the 'Rawhides' – he served with them for a while, and things did not go well as they were not on the same level. He was very relieved when he managed to get a transfer to Sgt. Apone's team. I'm inclined to think that Hicks would rather be dead then to be forced back into this unit."

"Well, at least the girl will benefit then…" Fixer tried to lighten the mood.

"I'm afraid you're wrong. With her the matter is even worse. Newt has suffered a severe psychological trauma: she has lost her entire family in a horrible way - every friend she ever had and the only home she has ever known is gone. She has seen things no child should ever have to see and she's been living in constant fear since then. Ellen Ripley was the one who helped her to cope, but now that she's dead the child will find herself to be alone and lost in this big galaxy which she knows nothing about. I dare not say how she will be able to handle that. I fear she might end up being case for a psychiatric institute, and that is a fate worse than death."

"Not necessarily," Fixer tried again. "She still has you, doesn't she? Can't you help her?"

Bishop thought this over. "Perhaps. She may not be as taken to Hicks or me as she was with Ripley, but we still might be able to give her some support. Hopefully she should trust us enough with that. Unfortunately I can't do much in my current status. My immobility prevents me from helping her."

"Then let us do something about that, shall we?" Fixer said, his spirits rising again.

"Does that mean you're finally going to let me in on what you have done on me so far?"

"Well, why not? Stay put for a second."

"I can't seem to do much else."

The little man disappeared from view and Bishop tried to follow him with his head. But his motor functions were still inactive, so he could only wait. Fixer returned, bringing with him a surgeon mirror, flapped vertically just above him. Even though Fixer had described it to him, Bishop hadn't realized how badly broken he actually had been. From his original self, he was no more than an upper torso with his smashed head, but Fixer had been quite innovative in his work to correct the damage. Bishop's left eye that had gone missing had been replaced with what looked like a camera lens imbedded in his eye-socket. It was not a pretty sight. There obviously wasn't much Fixer could do for his face, instead he had fastened different metal-plates all over his skull to reinforce and to hold the loose flaps of synthetic tissue in place. Rolling his remaining eye downwards to look more below him, he saw that Fixer had placed his remains onto the inner side of a back plate to some kind of body-armor.

Other stuff had been placed there as well. He saw the flight-recorder that served as his new hard-drive just below the remains of his chest, followed by a big oval-shaped black canister. A power cell he assumed. Bishop's new body consisted mostly of metal-rods and wires, his movements were to be simulated by different vacuum-canisters to drive the pivots in his separate joints. Those in turn were all connected via other joints and cog-wheels to a small engine of some kind that most likely Fixer's own design, which rested in the groin cavity.

"Well, what do you think?" Fixer asked.

"This is… quite intriguing, to put it mildly."

"I know you miss your old body, but think of this as a temporary vessel until we can get you back to Earth."

"I wasn't criticizing you, my friend," Bishop said, putting Fixer more at ease. "Considering what little there is left of me, it is remarkable that I am salvageable at all. It looks like you've built me as an artificial human-like skeleton that will be driven with internal motors."

"That's just what it is. Why try to create something new when the basic design has proved to be the superior model? If you want to perform human tasks then you need to be built closest possible as a human."

"What kind of work is left to do on me?"

"Well, I am finished building most of your components. Some still need to be installed, but mostly there's only fine-tuning to be done, like aligning your servos, testing your connections…"

"If all of those are to be set straight, then I will personally need to test them one by one. I will therefore now assist you with the rest of your work. Please proceed. With my guidance and your skills, I estimate that I will be completed within the next 24 hours."

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" Fixer said with a big grin and fetched his adjustable screwdriver.

For the duration of the day, several components were aligned, tested, realigned and adjusted. Fixer worked mostly from his terminal as joints and servos were tested, while Bishop adapted his program to the new signals that would control the movements in his limbs. When the tests had been finished and approved, Fixer carefully covered the metal-skeleton with soft foam rubber inside the arm- and leg-armor that was to dampen eventual abusive force. When they finally were near completion, Fixer retrieved something he had told Bishop several times that he was very proud of. In his hand he held a complex circuit card.

"This will be the main circuit in your body," he happily explained to Bishop. "It is one of the first things I built in my youth when I discovered my true talent for engineering - I always knew that I some day would build my own robot. This circuit board will receive all of your impulse-commands from your 'brain' and arrange the signals to the correct sequence required to perform the task. I know this will work, because I ran it several times in a simulation in my computer. If I wanted the left leg to kick, it kicked and so on. You'll walk just like any human."

Bishop didn't answer. Had he been human he would have a hard time try to cover his excitement as Fixer inserted the circuit card into its special slot in the main motor. But Bishop wasn't human, so his face showed no expressions at all. Fixer was fortunately not offended for the lack of reaction. Once the circuit was installed, the engineer finished covering the inside of the torso with shock-dampening foam rubber and finally he put on the outer shell of the armor Bishop had been rebuilt in.

He now saw that Fixer had built him inside a green Thermo-suit: an all-weather hermetically sealed body-armor designed for several rough environments. He assumed that this armor was since before broken and discarded, because it should usually have a helmet and the temperature regulators had been stripped away. Fixer had also fashioned him with dark goggles with a rubber band to cover the camera-lens in his eye-socket. Other than the visible metal-plates on his face, he saw in the surgeon mirror that he would pass fine to be a human in armor.

"All that's left now is to power you up, and then I will disconnect the cables to give you full control," Fixer explained and threw some switches. It took a few minutes to charge and then…

"Are you ready to assume control?"

"Do it," Bishop answered. The cables were disconnected and Bishop felt a new sensation flow through his 'brain'. Going ahead carefully he tried to sit up, and was rewarded with a different angle of Fixers workshop. Moving down from the workbench, his feet landed heavily on the floor with a large 'thump'. He moved his head, flexed his fingers, testing every joint inside the Thermo-suit. His moves were remarkably soundless and perfect. Granted, the new body was still crude and quite inferior to his old self - but for the moment it was quite adequate. It felt good just to be able to move and even walk again.

"You are to be commended, Fixer. You've done a marvelous job."

Fixer actually blushed, not used to getting that kind of praise. "I'm quite amazed myself. I already knew I'm a good mechanic, but I never actually tried to build something this advanced before."

"You did say you were an inventor. I'd say that your reputation is well earned."

"Stop it now or I might blow up with pride. I'm just glad I was able to help you." Fixer now slumped in his chair. Bishop could see that the little man was tired. Now that the rebuilding was completed, his weariness quickly made itself shown.

"Then it is my turn to help you now. I can't help but to notice that you are exhausted from all this work. Why don't you go to sleep and let me clean up this workshop for you?"

"Really? You don't mind?"

"Not at all. Think of it as an adapting process. I have been immobile for so long I would enjoy doing some chores."

"You're a good friend, Bishop." Fixer got up from his chair and turned to leave. "Good night. Enjoy your newfound ability to move. Just remember that the colonel wants you to stay in here. Don't wander of."

"Don't worry. Sleep tight," Bishop called after him as the door closed. Before it did though, he was certain that he caught a glimpse of a smile on the engineer's face. Maybe the little man wasn't as naïve as the synthetic first had suspected; he knew perfectly well that Bishop would not allow himself to be confined in the workshop. Not while he had friends that were confined in sickbay. If they couldn't come to him, he would go to them – the colonel's orders be damned.

* * *

Author's notes: Anybody remember the Alien toy action figures released by Kenner somewhere around 1992? There was an armored version of Bishop released back then, and that's the figure I have Bishop in this story based on. There are a lot of pictures in Google-search for better references.


	4. Rebecca

"_What the hell are you doing in here?"_

Hicks turned slowly around towards Dr. Roman with a smile on his lips, even thought it made his facial wounds itch. "Doing what I said I was doing, Doc. I'm following my orders to protect this child."

"The child won't be any more protected with you hanging around in here," the biotech said angrily. "It's more like the opposite, especially if you messed with any of the controls! And just who unstrapped you from the bed anyway?"

Hicks continued smiling. After the sedation had worn off, he had found that he was alone in the medical bay. Given time, patience and a lot of pain tolerance he'd managed to wrestle out his limbs from the restraints and got out of bed – afterwards he had walked directly into the next room with the tank where Newt was treated inside. He had stayed at her side all that time until Dr. Roman had found him in there.

"The rumors were right about you marine soldiers being stubborn medical troublemakers," Roman muttered with her knuckles placed on her hips. "I see you even removed the bandages from your face."

"They were uncomfortable." Hicks said simply as he turned around, holding up a bunch of journals regarding the conditions and given treatments to both he and the child. Roman tried to snatch them away from her annoying patient, but he was quicker to move them out of her reach.

"Those journals are for medical eyes only!" she snapped.

"Not anymore they are. I want to know what's going on!" He nodded his head towards the girl in the tank. "Who the hell conducted an autopsy on her? And why?"

"It's not for me to tell you," Roman's tone was high-stemmed and stern. "I'm only your doctor, and I want you back in your bed A.S.A.P.!"

"Forget the bed!" Hicks said, matching her voice-level. "I've read through these journals. I know I have a new lung and an artificial heart together with some implanted titanium rib-bones after I'd been impaled by a strut in a crash, I know what to be careful of."

"No you don't! Although we grew a new lung based on your DNA, it will still take some time for it to work properly. We injected drugs to help adapting it, but it won't do much good with you walking around tearing on your wounds!"

"I can manage, Doc, but I'm not sure the girl will. Screw the Company and treat her rib-cage as well. She's been through too much; I doubt she'll be able to handle the pain like I can."

"And who is going to pay for that treatment? You?"

"I will if I have to, and I'll be happy to do it! You don't know it Doc, but I owe that little girl my life. None of us would have gotten out of the complex back on her planet if it weren't for her escape route through the air-ducts!"

"That's not my concern and neither is it yours. The colonel knows that the Company has declined further work with the E.I.S. on her, therefore we are forbidden by orders to do so."

"But what the hell…" Hicks became angry now. "I'm going to have a chat with the colonel!"

"You do that, but do it elsewhere. We're about to get the girl out of the tank and we'll manage better without you standing in the way." Roman started to show Hicks out of the room, managing to retrieve the journals from him in the process.

"I still object to it, Doc," Hicks argued.

"Noted. Now _get out_, and _get to bed_!" Getting Hicks out, Roman admitted Arnolds who had just arrived late as usual and then she slammed the door shut and locked it. Still feeling reluctant to accept the situation, Hicks started to walk towards the exit of the infirmary to find that uncaring Colonel Decker. He was taken aback though when he saw that somebody was already standing in the doorway, watching him. The figure didn't look like a standard soldier, therefore he couldn't be a guard assigned to restrain him. But neither by the look of all the metal-plates that covered most of his head was he a human.

"Hello Hicks. I heard you were awake," the figure said.

Hicks recognized him once he heard the voice, but he found it impossible to believe his eyes. "Bishop? Is that _you_?" He stared confounded at the armor-clad being.

"We've all been through a lot lately. I understand that my present appearance is kind of confusing."

"Confusing? Had it not been for your voice I would never have guessed it was you. How did you become like that? Last time I saw you, you were still your old self."

"This is the result of a close encounter with an alien hitch-hiker onboard the dropship that later got worse when we crashed on Fiorina 16. I'm lucky to still be functioning."

"Fiorina 16? The prison planet?"

"The very one. An accident caused us to be ejected from the _Sulaco_ and we crashed there, unfortunately much too roughly. That crash killed both you and the girl."

"Then Ripley is still alive then? Where is she?"

"No. I heard she died only a few days afterwards."

"WHAT? She's _dead_? No, you must be mista…" Hicks suddenly gasped in pain, clutched his chest as a sudden agony spread over his damaged torso and he staggered. He would have fallen hard to the floor if Bishop hadn't been there to catch him. He helped Hicks over to the bed and sat him down so that the marine would be able to calm down.

"My mistake," Bishop said softly. "I shouldn't have told you that yet. I know what injuries you obtained when we crashed. It's all in the flight recorder now serving as my memory banks. Are you okay?"

"I… I'll be fine." The pain was easing now, and Hicks could almost breathe normally. The doctor was unfortunately right: he was in no condition to be out of bed. Surrendering to the only sensible thing to do, he stretched out along the cot and put himself in a resting position. Even though his respiratory was easy again, his heart had gone very heavy after the news of Ripley's death. He had really liked that woman, even grown to admire her although he really hadn't known her for that long. His thoughts also went to the unlucky little girl who recently barely managed to escape with her life.

"How are we going to explain that to Newt?" he asked slowly, without looking at Bishop. "The poor child has lost everything. Ripley was the one holding her up. Now she'll go into catatonia again."

"Maybe," Bishop answered neutrally. "But perhaps maybe not. She's a strong little girl. What's best for her now is that we stay with her to help her to pull through. I'm sure she got enough used to both of us to put her trust in our friendship to her."

"She'll certainly need it around these assholes. I know the 'Rawhides' quite well: they're not your friendly neighborhood – they're more like the local street-gang that lives for trouble."

"It is peculiar that they were picked for this assignment. Our situation on Fiorina didn't exactly require the need for an assault unit to come and rescue us."

"That means that there's something more going on here than what we are being led to believe," Hicks filled in. He turned his head to meet Bishop's eyes, or whatever he had under those dark goggles.

"You're the one that walks around. How about you do some research on what happened during our recent days? The doctors won't tell me anything."

"I've already dug up some information. It helped the time pass. But I do believe there are one or two more things that I can look into. I suggest that you resume your rest and I'll return as soon as I know something more."

"Rest, rest, rest! That seems to be the story of my life right now."

Hicks didn't see the smile on the other's face as the synthetic turned and walked out through the door. Bishop was well aware of what kind of man Hicks was. Restlessness is a common habit in a well-trained marine, a sickness that they absolutely hate to live with. Pushing the thoughts away, he walked back towards Fixers workshop to plug himself back into the computer-terminal. He was absolutely certain that there were more answers to get and he would find them, even if he had to break even more restrictions to do so.

* * *

Almost a whole day had gone by until Bishop returned to the sickbay and during that time Hicks had grown even more restless. Thanks to the medicines and his own physical health, his body had adapted quite fine to the new lung that was pumping air through his internal respiratory systems and his wounds were healing remarkably fast. But not every wound… When Bishop came in, Hicks were sitting in his bed staring into a hand-held mirror. His survival had not come without a price.

"Look at this…" he muttered as he stared into his own face. He spoke so low that it would be hard for anybody else to hear what he was saying, but Bishop's auditory systems that were more attuned than to the human ears, so he could without any problems hear every syllable Hicks pronounced.

"I don't deny that your appearance has changed slightly," Bishop acknowledged. He knew this since it was him personally who had treated Hicks' facial burns after Ripley had dragged him over to the landing field right beside the colony's transmitter tower where he had remotely brought the second dropship down from the _Sulaco_. The doctors aboard the _Hercules_ had obviously been kind enough to try to repair the damage, but they hadn't done a very good job at it. Hicks' face was now more wrinkled than before, and as if that hadn't been enough, the traumatic shock he'd experienced from being impaled by a support strut when the EEV crashed on Fiorina, combined with being sealed inside a vacuumed compartment for an extended time had literally made his hair turn gray.

"Slightly, are you kidding? I look at least thirty years _older_ than when I went under!" Hicks explicitly stated. "Why didn't you say something about it yesterday?"

"You never stroke me as the vane type, so the thought never occurred to me. Besides, your strength has never come from your looks, but from your character of tolerance and your affection for the 'little' people, together with your strong sense for right and wrongs."

"Yeah well, unfortunately my tolerance went down the drain the moment I was reacquainted with Colonel Decker," Hicks grumbled as he put the mirror away on the bed-table, but not with care. Fortunately it held.

"And let's not forget about your physical strength," Bishop rambled on, pretending not to take notice of Hicks' bitterness. "You're healing remarkably well, despite your severe injuries. Your resilience will help you to cope, no matter how you look like."

"My resilience doesn't get me out of this bed!" Bishop's attempt to cheer the corporal up hadn't been very effective; the other's bad mood was rooted too deeply. The synthetic had been right about one thing though: Hicks wasn't all that concerned about the loss of his youthful looks, he was angry because he right now felt quite restricted and helpless. Hicks were used to being in control of his decisions – and right now the control was out of his hands. He was tired of the hospital bed, but he was not allowed to get up - Dr Roman had strictly forbidden it. _Damn woman!_ So it was either to cooperate and obediently stay put or being strapped down again to prevent him from getting up, and that wasn't anything he could afford to let happen right now.

Gazing over to his right, he examined the other bed that was occupied since 20 hours back. Newt was still unconscious and hadn't moved an inch since the doctors had taken her out of the tank that had treated her frost-bitten tissue. She was in such a deep catatonic state that her respiratory had become dangerously reduced; it would've stopped completely if it hadn't been for the heart stimulator of the life-support machine that helped her heart to beat. The beeping sounds from those systems were the only thing that declared that she was still alive and stabilized.

While Hicks' restlessness grew for each minute, his concern for the child grew with it. He waited nervously for the unavoidable moment if… no, _when_ she would wake up and he would have to break the news to her of Ripley's death. Or worse, the child could any moment begin to have a nightmare and then she would possibly start to trash around in her sleep. He would in that case quickly have to get out of bed and be at her side so that he could try to calm her down; therefore being strapped down was a situation that could be hazardous for the girl's health. But right now she was completely motionless with no signs of any bad dreams, but neither were there any signs of her waking up.

"If only there was something we could do to help her," Hicks said melancholy.

"She's most likely on hold," Bishop explained from his own scientific perspective. "The coma is simply her body saving the psyche from pain. Eventually she will wake up when she's ready for it."

"That's no guarantee!" Where Bishop tried to be optimistic, Hicks were quite the opposite, a definite deviation from him as he otherwise used to be of a positive character. "Some cases has been known to last a whole lifetime, it could take forever before she's ready! And I doubt Colonel Decker is willing to let her wait that long!"

As on cue, the door opened and Dr Roman entered, followed by the colonel in question. She only threw a quick glance over at Hicks, satisfied with him staying put – instead she walked over to Newts bedside. Taking her small wrist, the doctor checked the child's pulse and opened the eyelid to check for contractions in her pupil.

"Well?" Decker asked simply and without emotion.

"No change what so ever," Roman answered neutrally releasing Newts arm.

"Will she come out of it any time soon?"

"To early to tell. I believe her condition is like this because of a delayed case of shock. Her mind has drifted deep into her brain as a form of self-preservation. No matter what I do I can't seem to reach her."

"Well, what did you expect?" Hicks cut in suddenly. "She doesn't feel safe being surrounded by strangers."

Roman put her hands on her hips and glared annoyingly at her other patient. "Do you think you're a better psychologist than me, corporal?"

"You certainly have given me enough reason to believe that you are definitely a second-rate, Doc."

"_How dare you, you…?_" Hicks almost thought that Roman was going to jump him. To his own surprise he had actually hoped she would, it would have felt good to test his own strength against that annoying medtech and put her to the deck. But Bishop came in between to keep them from tearing each other's eyes out.

"Hicks, what are you doing?" the synthetic questioned the corporal.

"Let me handle this, Bishop!" the other told him. Decker then came into view, glaring at the corporal with his usual icy stare.

"Just what do you think you know about her condition, Corporal?" he asked with his usual neutrally but stone cold voice.

"Back on the colony of her own planet she only knew the people who lived there with her, she's not used to any other population. When we arrived there she certainly didn't approach us by herself. We more like stumbled over each other and then she ran away, finding us terrifying. She hardly acknowledged our presence back there, so why would she acknowledge your presence here?"

"You're wasting my time, Corporal. It had been enough to say: 'She doesn't like you.'"

"Well you're right, she doesn't. That's why she won't respond."

"Then she's of no use to our mission. Cease all treatments, Dr. Roman. Disconnect the life-support." With that he turned to leave, and also leaving Hicks in a state of sudden panic. This was never his intention; he had just said that Newt didn't feel safe around strangers because he had wanted them to keep a distance from the girl. He had just wanted them to leave her alone, not to kill her! Desperately Hicks called out to the colonel.

"WAIT! She knows me! Maybe I can reach her!"

The colonel turned around and looked at him coldly. "Then her life is in your hands now," he said. Hicks knew with a horrifying realization what Decker meant by that. If he couldn't wake the girl, no one alive could, and that would sentence her to an immediate death. And the colonel had just shifted the responsibility of her fate on to him!

Wasting no time, he got out of his bed and sat down beside the girl, taking her little hand in one of his while the other caressed the honey-blond tresses. Bishop watched with a programmed anxiety while Colonel Decker and Dr. Roman just watched with crossed arms and expressionless faces, waiting for a result. Hicks leaned closer to the angel-like face, speaking gently to her.

"Hey, Newt. It's me, Hicks. I just wanted to tell you that we're safe now. You're safe; there are no more monsters around."

There was no response – no acknowledgements whatsoever.

"Newt, please answer me." Hicks continued, but the child still didn't move. "There's nothing to be afraid of anymore. The pain you feel in your chest is not a monster; it's the result of an accident. You're going to live." There was no indication that the girl had heard any word that had been said and Hicks began to feel the disgusting feeling of helplessness creep over him.

"Why don't you just say that Ripley is here to see her," Decker interrupted him. "Maybe then she will react?"

Hicks turned his angry face towards the Colonel. "You want me to _lie_ to her? Do you think I'll win her respect by that? And she _knows_ Ripley's not around; otherwise she wouldn't be so far out from our grasp. I am _not_ going to ruin her trust in me by deceiving her!"

"That means you can't wake her, and therefore I'll repeat my orders: disconnect the life-support!"

"_Wait!_" Hicks pleaded as Dr. Roman's hand reached for the main switch of the life-support system. "Give me a chance, _please_! Bishop, _help me!_"

"I think you will need to try a different approach," Bishop suggested. "Comatose patients usually react to either something familiar, or sometimes to something that they don't like to hear in order for them to find their way back. Perhaps you should try to address her by her name."

"I _did_ address her by her name. It didn't help!"

"Not that name," the synthetic replied. "Try with her _real_ name." Catching on to what Bishop suggested, Hicks leaned in over the girl again and spoke to her in a gentle tone:

"Rebecca? Honey, can you hear me?" He paused for a few seconds. "Rebecca? Are you in there?" There was still no reaction coming from the girl. Hicks started to feel the panic grip on to his shoulders like a bird of prey with cold sharp talons.

"Rebecca, please! You've got to respond!" But she didn't, and now the colonel's patience had run out.

"This is a waste of time," he said. "Doctor..." There was a quick hand-signal, and Dr. Roman inserted a key to the apparatus to lock up the safety catch that prevented the machine to be shut off by mistake. She turned the key, shut off the main switch to the life-support and then locked it down again. She had done this so fast with a practiced hand that Hicks didn't register what had happened until he realized that the beeping sounds of the heart stimulator had silenced.

"NO! DON'T DO THAT!" Hicks shouted in despair and rushed around Newt's bed to the controls. "TURN IT BACK ON!" He tried to switch the system back on himself but it wouldn't start up as it was locked. "_Give me the key!"_

"Get back to bed, soldier," was all she said as she pocketed the key. "You're still too fresh out of surgery to allow yourself to get all worked up like that."

"I SAID: GIVE ME THE KEY! GIVE IT TO ME!" Beyond reason now, Hicks actually made a charge against the biotech. But Bishop came in between once again and held him back.

"Don't do it, Hicks," the synthetic said. "It won't help anything."

"Stand down, Corporal!" Decker commanded. "That's an _order_!"

"_Turn the system back on!_" Hicks persisted, trying to wrestle his way out of Bishop's hold.

"That would be a waste of resources." Decker showed no emotion what so ever. "She's dead and that's obviously what she's been all along."

"_No, she's alive! She's alive!"_ Somewhere deep inside his mind behind his despair Hicks remembered that those were the exact words Ripley had uttered after Newt had been abducted by the alien under the floors of the complex on LV-426. It was in the middle of their escape when Newt had slipped and slid down a chute. He and Ripley had tried to rescue her from underneath a grating, but one of the monsters had beaten them to it. Ripley had gone quite desperate back then and Hicks had had to drag her out of there, being the voice of reason. Now _he_ was in Ripley's position, feeling the same despair she had felt when Newt had been taken from her. But Ripley had been able to go in after the girl, going inside the very nest of the creatures despite the danger it presented. Ripley had prevailed, getting the child out of there - but Hicks was failing. He didn't have the luxury to go in somewhere after the girl. Newt was slipping out of his grasp, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"DAMN YOU, YOU MURDEROUS BASTARDS!" he roared, still struggling in Bishop's hold. "DAMN YOU BOTH!"

"A good soldier is supposed to be detached from emotions, Corporal." Decker was completely immune to Hicks' outburst. "I'll overlook it just this once since you've obviously gone sissy under the command of Sgt. Apone. I'll even overlook that insult this time - but if you raise your voice to your commanding officer again, you will face dire consequences! Now, _stand down!"_

"Hicks, please!" Bishop tried to talk sense into the soldier. "There's nothing more we can do for her. But you will hurt yourself considerably if you keep up this struggle. You must take it easy!" Somewhere deep down Hicks registered what Bishop was saying because his wounds were hurting extremely bad from the strain he had enforced upon those. Bishop released him, but he no longer found the strength to uphold his legs. Hicks slid down on the floor beside Newt's cot and there he buried his wrinkled face in his hand as the sorrow overwhelmed him. He had failed the child. He also felt like he had failed Ripley as her rescuing of the girl had been for naught. He felt like he had failed everything.

"God, Rebecca. I'm so very sorry," he sobbed.

"Don't…"

Hicks jerked his head towards the girl. Had he really heard a very faint and tiny whisper? "Rebecca?"

"Don't call… m-me that. M-my name's... Newt."


	5. What happened?

The relief Hicks felt wash over him was so great that he felt lightheaded. Although it had been such a tiny sound, barely audible, there was no mistake in the message or where from it had originated. The small form on the bed was as motionless as before, but the pale lips trembled and he could hear her moan weakly. He _had_ reached her, but if it was because of the use of her birth-name or if she had been lured by the all the shouting, he couldn't tell. It could just as well have been her body starting up by itself when the life-support was disconnected – Hicks didn't know and frankly; he didn't care! The girl had spoken and that was all that mattered.

Bishop looked like he experienced the same relief that Hicks did, Colonel Decker had at least the dignity to look surprised while Dr. Roman was astonished. She stepped closer towards the bed to check on the child, but Hicks would have none of that.

"_Get back!"_ he growled, not wanting to risk anybody ruin the moment of awakening. Roman complied, but with a grim look that could kill the man instantly if she had the power to do so. Decker remained where he stood, watching silently.

Newt's breathing sped up erratically; she coughed, the long time of immobility and pain finally catching up. Hicks stroked her hair, speaking gently to her to calm her down. He knew this would have gone easier had it been Ripley speaking to her instead of him, but she wasn't there so it was up to him to make the girl fell safe. Somehow she found safety with Hicks as she began to relax, breathing more regular and steady. Slowly she opened her eyes, gazing up to the familiar face. Hicks gave her his warmest smile and asked her how she felt. Her jaw was shaking now, and it was still only a faint whisper that could escape her lips. Hicks strained to hear them, as he leaned closer.

"I… f-feel… terri…b-ble." Although she struggled to make herself heard, her voice could at the moment not become anything more than a very weak tone. But Hicks were happy that she was able to speak, as well as that she was even willing to speak to him at all.

"It's only temporary. Don't worry Newt; everything is going to be fine. I promise."

"What… happened?" She gazed worryingly at the adult. "Where's… Ripley? Why isn't... she here?"

Hicks' smile fell off his face and he felt heartache as he realized the inevitable outcome of her question. (Which was just a figure of speech since his heart was now artificial.) Didn't he just say that everything was going to be fine? How could he have been so stupid? Just moments before he'd told Colonel Decker that he wouldn't tell lies to the girl, and yet he had just unintentionally done so. He prayed that she would understand and forgive him later after he'd found a good way to explain Ripley's death. But finding a way seemed quite impossible. Whatever he could come up with would never ease the unavoidable pain that would come. He clenched his jaw and swallowed a large portion of air. This was going to hurt much more than the injuries he'd sustained…

"I'm sorry, Newt. She's… Ripley is…" Hicks choked on the words, he couldn't utter them. But he didn't need to. The little girl understood what he was trying to say, her face fell and the eyes widened as the horrible truth hit her. Her lower lip trembled again, but for a different reason this time.

"…Dead…?" The question was no more than a whisper. The adult nodded slowly and dejectedly in confirmation.

"…How? How can she be dead?" Newt demanded, close to the tears. "She _promised_ that she would…!" Newt stopped as she felt a stab of pain in her chest.

"Take it easy, Newt," Hicks quickly tried to calm her, placing his hand on her small shoulder. "Your chest took quite some damage in the crash. You must remain still to let it heal."

"What crash? What happened? I thought we were going to Earth?" Although the voice was tiny by weakness it was filled with accusation and betrayal. "Ripley _promised_ that she would stay with me! I thought she lo..." She caught herself before finishing the sentence.

"Ripley would never have abandoned you, Newt," Bishop told her gently, trying to save the trust the child had had for the woman and which was now beginning to falter. "She loved you very much. I can guarantee you that."

Newt looked at the android. "Is that… Bishop?"

"I was just as surprised as you, kid," Hicks answered with a smile. Unfortunately the child would not return it. Bishop's new looks wasn't enough to deviate the girl's mind from the loss of Ripley and she definitely wasn't prepared to let the matter drop just yet - she looked intensively at Hicks in a way that was far from childish.

"You still haven't told me what happened. Why is she dead?" she demanded again. "How?" The sharp look in her eyes clearly declared that she wouldn't settle with anything less than the absolute truth. It actually frightened the adult. She may have the body of a child but her mind was far more grown – a development that had been forced upon her witnessing the horrors of life with the slaughter of her people. Hicks wondered if this little girl could ever go back being a child again or if that road had been permanently blocked behind her. He understood that he had to answer her in the ways of adulthood, but he still wanted to try to sugarcoat it a little.

That's when it dawned on him that he actually didn't know the exact circumstances around Ripley's death either. He knew nothing besides the fact that the EEV had crash-landed on Fiorina 16, killing all of its passengers. Hicks were dumbfounded. So deeply immersed in his own hospitalized predicament, so busy trying to figure out how to deliver the bad news as gently as possible to Newt that he had forgotten that he himself knew nothing of what had transpired in between from when he had been sedated onboard the dropship back on LV-426 and to this moment. The crew of the _Hercules_ had so far not been very forthcoming, and Bishop had not had the time to tell him anything. Therefore it was as big a shock for Hicks as it was for Newt when Colonel Decker suddenly and straightforwardly told them the real cause for Ripley's death.

"She was infested with an alien. And to prevent the Company from getting their hands on it, she jumped into a vat of molten steel and incinerated herself." He delivered this coldly and without mitigation. No more sounds escaped Newt's mouth, she only became deadly still. Then she closed her tear-filled eyes and turned away, crying silently. Hicks thought of trying to comfort her, but he instinctively sensed that the girl needed to be alone since she'd turned her back to him. And he would respect that. If she needed him, then he would let her approach him on her own terms. Instead Hicks got up slowly from the floor, not averting his hateful glare from Colonel Decker. Bishop moved slowly closer again; preparing to hold the marine corporal back if he decided to go frenzy on the other. Hicks' weathered faced wrinkled in rage, but he remained where he stood. The colonel's pose didn't change either; instead he only locked eyes with the lesser-ranked soldier. The atmosphere was tense.

"Haven't you ever heard of being a bit more _sensitive_?"

"Sensitive?" Decker sneered at the word. "Who do you think you're talking to? Besides, from my point of view you never seemed to find the words that needed to be said. You should thank me."

"_Thank_ you?" Hicks couldn't believe that the colonel could even say such a thing in a situation like this. "That was _cruel!_ And it was _unnecessary! _I wanted to try to spare her immediate pain, but you… you only throw it on her without any tactfulness at all! "

"She seems to handle it quite well. And why avoid the truth?"

"_She's only a child, damn it! _I don't know what you want her for or what you even want with me, but if she's going to stay healthy, you go _easy_ on her! _Do you get me?_"

"Are you questioning my authority, Corporal?"

"As far as the girl is concerned, yes I do! I'm sure even the good doctor here finds your methods inappropriate." He indicated to Roman.

"Do you think I would care, Corporal?" Decker answered coldly.

Hicks hesitated for a moment. He knew the true answer, and that was what made him mad. "No. You don't care. That's why I hate you. That's why I _always_ hated you!"

Decker didn't change his expression a bit. Hicks knew that there was no point continuing the discussion. He had lost the argument, knowing that to try to convince the colonel what was right or wrong was futile, as it always had been. Defeated he moved back to Newt's side. He found her looking almost pleadingly at him, trying to form a word.

"…Water…" she whispered. Roman who had been quiet during the whole argument went over to the sink and fetched a mug that she filled up. But as she came over with it, Hicks was quick to take it from her. He was still unwilling to let that woman come near the child, especially since she had just disconnected the life-support without even questioning the decision. That had made the medtech untrustworthy in his book. Obviously as a doctor, Roman had neglected to take the oath of saving lives. Hicks brought the mug to Newt's mouth to help her drink the water. She sipped it almost greedily. But suddenly she grimaced in agony and clutched her chest again that had heaved a little too much when she had swallowed.

"It hurts! Why does my chest hurt?" she whimpered, and Hicks' heart began to ache again. It was bad enough with the girl having to deal with Ripley's death; he didn't want to tell her about the autopsy.

"You were badly injured in the crash, honey. You will need to take it quite easy for a while until it heals."

Newt looked at him with her none-childlike eyes once more. "There's something you're not telling me." Hicks almost swore aloud. This child could see right through him as if he was a simple pane of glass. So unlike any child he'd ever met – it was no wonder that Ripley had grown to love her.

"That's because I don't know the whole story myself," Hicks said, giving in. "I don't want to give you false assumption with only half the truth, so I rather not saying anything at all. If only I knew everything that has happened, then I would tell you."

"Then allow me to tell you," Bishop said. "I know everything." The android actually looked proud under all the metal-plates that reinforced his cranial structure. Hicks wondered if he really was programmed to do that. He decided to worry about that later. The tale of their present situation was much more important.

"In that case, maybe we should go somewhere else to talk about this, Bishop."

"No!" Newt objected. "I want to hear it too!" There was a determination in her voice that Hicks surrendered to. Motioning Bishop closer, he asked the android to tell them the story.

"I better start from after I had sedated you back on the dropship," Bishop started. "You already understand that Ripley retrieved Newt from the complex. What you don't know is that they were followed by a gigantic alien creature."

"A queen," Newt informed Hicks. "We saw it down there. That ugly thing laid eggs all over the place. Guess we somehow managed to anger it."

"It managed to hitch a ride back to the _Sulaco_," Bishop went on. "She had hidden inside a strut bay and emerged just when we all thought we were safe and sound."

"'Close encounter with an alien hitch-hiker'," Hicks filled in remembering Bishop's words. "That was when you got damaged."

"That's right. She tore me in two pieces, making me a hapless heap on the deck. Anyway, Ripley took a fight with it with a power-loader."

"With a power-loader?"

"You should have seen it." Even though Newt was struggling to handle the loss, there was a tone of pride when she explained the action that had taken place at that time. "She beat it silly, knocked it down a pit in the floor and threw it out into space like it was nothing but a sack of garbage."

Hicks knew that the girl probably exaggerated a bit, but it was normal coming from a juvenile's memory mixed with some childish fantasy. But he was not about to argue against it; he only nodded in acknowledgment. "I really wish I had seen it, kid."

Bishop resumed the story. "Ripley got rid of it alright, and then we all went to sleep for our journey home. But until now none of us knew that the queen had unfortunately left behind a 'gift'. During our flight from the planet to the _Sulaco_, the queen took her time to lay two eggs inside the strut bay where she had hidden."

"She _what_?" Newt gasped.

"The scanning-crew that searched through the _Sulaco_ after its somehow delayed arrival back to Earth confirms it. Both of them were empty. They had obviously hatched after our department from LV-426 and the face-huggers found their way to the sleeping chambers. They managed to cause some damage, because the flight-recorder contains reports of fire and a gas-leak which resulted in a potential risk of danger to us. That's why we were ejected from the ship and brought to Fiorina: the prison planet. Unfortunately both aliens came with us and damaged the EEV-unit as well. We came down hard in the ocean… killing the both of you."

Both Newt and Hicks were quiet, absorbing all the events with almost dread.

"You Hicks were impaled by a support strut. Newt's tube had somehow been breached opened, enabling seawater to pour in. She drowned. I was smashed beyond repair."

"God…" Hicks breathed out.

"And… Ripley was really infested with one of… them?" Newt asked carefully.

"Yes," Bishop confirmed solemnly. Newt began to sob again; Hicks tried to sooth her while Bishop continued. "As for the other alien, I don't know how or where it found a host, but suffice to say is it broke loose in the prison-facility and killed just about every inmate save for one. Ripley managed to corner it and destroy it, but shortly afterwards she jumped into a vat of molten steel and killed herself to prevent a new queen from being born. Colonel Decker was completely truthful about that. Several Company representatives who'd arrived on the scene witnessed it all, Dr. Roman included."

Newt cried now and Hicks hugged her, holding her tightly to his body. "Maybe we should stop now," He said to Bishop.

"W-wait…" Newt whispered from Hicks' chest where her face was half-buried. "If we died… then how come we are here now?"

"That's right." Hicks realized what Newt wanted to say. "We're here now and alive. So who claims that we were dead?"

"Technically you were. But military protocol had one more trick up its sleeve. Even though the cryotubes were breached, they were still in functioning order. You do know that the human brain survives six minutes after the body has died, don't you? That's what saved you. The machines registered an all failure of your body-functions and in order to save you the sleepers injected a special compound into your brains to keep you from deteriorating. The inmates of Fiorina took you immediately to the morgue where you were preserved on ice."

"Really? I didn't know about that gimmick."

"You're really lucky that it worked. Our crash became its trial-run. It was kept classified so that no one would neglect the regular security checks when using the sleepers thinking that would save them."

"T-there's still something I don't get," Newt whispered, still weeping from the shock of her protector's death. "If I only drowned, then why am I hurting so much in my chest?"

Bishop hesitated and Hicks looked troubled by the question. "Newt, don't worry about that now. I'll tell you when you feel bett…"

"TELL ME! _I want to know!_ Please?"

"Ripley had an autopsy conducted on you," Bishop confessed sounding embarrassed, why ever now he should be embarrassed about something he wasn't responsible for.

"What's an autopsy?" she asked with a disturbed feeling evident on her young face.

"An operation doctors perform on dead bodies to determine the cause of death. Apparently she thought that you were the one that had been infested by the alien."

"She had probably gone quite confused and couldn't think straight after the crash," Hicks immediately intervened. "I know she wouldn't do that to you under any other circumstances. The shock of our deaths made her crazy, isn't that so, Bishop?" Hicks stared at Bishop with a face that was to tell the android to agree with him. Ripley may be dead, but the girl's faith in her didn't need to be destroyed. Bishop on the other hand didn't need to be convinced.

"I have reason to believe that she most likely _did_ suffer a psychological disorder after the crash. From what I heard she acted quite irrational back on the prison-planet, considering the cremation and all."

"What cremation?" Hicks asked.

"She wanted your bodies destroyed. She insisted on it, even though regulations dictated that your bodies were to be kept on ice and later brought back to Earth. That's an interesting part of the story, actually. I will recite a communiqué that was sent to Weyland-Yutani from the prison:

FURY 161-CLASS C PRISON UNIT, FIORINA

IMPERATIVE TO EMERG. EVAC. RIPLEY, LT.-CO IMMEDIETLY. CIVILIAN CAUSING DISORDER. UNAUTHORIZED AUTOPSY PERFORMED ON DECEASED CHILD, CREMATION OF BODIES REQUESTED AGAINST JURISTICTION.

COMPANY ORDERS STANDS, BODIES SEALED IN VACUUM COMPARTMENTS UNTIL EXTRACTION. MEDICAL REPORT FROM MED. OFFICER CLEMENS ATTACHED.

MUST INSIST ON EVAC OF RIPLEY A.S.A.P.-

AWAIT RESPONSE SUPT. ANDREWS M51021.

"I did a background search of this Superintendant Andrews who were the warden of Fury 161. He was a man who didn't like to make mistakes as he feared it would add to a prolonged service for him on Fiorina. It appears that he and a Dr. Clemens staged a coup to keep Ripley in check."

"You mean they tricked her," Hicks concluded.

"In a manner of speaking," Bishop confirmed. "I will not relate the whole medical report that was attached; this Medical Officer Clemens was not as brief and formal as the warden was. From what I could determine, Ripley requested an autopsy with reason to exclude death of a contagion of cholera. She claimed that the personal on LV-426 experimented with all kinds of mutated bacterial and viral strains that had gotten loose and spread. That's why according to her story the combat team nuked the colony."

"That's _preposterous!_" Hicks snapped. "What made her come up with such a ridiculous thing?"

"You have to remember that Ripley didn't want to reveal a thing about the creatures. However Dr. Clemens was thinking in the same line that you do. I did a background on him as well: before he was convicted and sentenced to prison he was part of teams of physical and psychological examiners that evaluated the preconditions of colonists that left earth to settle on new locations. He knew that no terra-forming colony would ever be subjected to undertake such a research, especially if there are families and children involved. Clemens therefore knew Ripley lied, but his scientific curiosity made him take measures to try to determine what the real story behind her deception was. In agreement with Supt. Andrews who didn't want to overstep his own authority, Clemens arranged for your bodies to be sealed inside two vacuum-compartments until pick-up. And to make sure that Ripley wouldn't snoop around and cause more problems, they agreed to her request of cremating your remains. A funeral took place and Ripley saw your two body-bags fall into the molten steel and burn. But the body bags were in reality and unbeknownst to her filled with scrap. Shortly after that the alien broke loose and massacred everybody. Your bodies remained forgotten in the morgue afterwards for three years until now."

"Three years? We weren't picked up until after three years?"

"I'm afraid we were all deemed non-essential and worthless when the last creature was destroyed. The fact that the drug injected into your brains made it possible to revive you was nothing that even concerned the Company. I dare to guess that they were so disappointed over the loss of the creature that they never cared less about us all together."

"So why this sudden change of heart then?" Hicks asked, throwing his arms out. "Why did they pick us up now if they don't care about us?"

"I have discovered that the Company…"

"_That's enough, Robot!"_ They all turned to the harsh voice. They had totally forgotten about Colonel Decker who had stood there listening during Bishop's entire story. Decker walked up to Bishop and spoke directly to his face.

"You have stuck your diodes into business that doesn't concern you and it will be my pleasure to report this back to the Company authorities when we get back to Earth. I'll enjoy the moment when they wipe your mind as punishment and reduce you to a simple toaster. Now, I couldn't care less about the information you've been spilling to those two so far, that data is not vital to my work. But I will _not_ have you revealing information of this mission to them without _my_ authority! _I_ decide if they have a need to know! Is that clear, _Robot?_"

"Quite clear, Sir," Bishop complied. But he really wished that the colonel would stop referring to him as a 'robot'. Although damaged and rebuilt, Bishop was still far more sophisticated than a mindless automaton, but Decker made it sound like the synthetic was an inferior even to that with all of his jeering description of the other. Although Bishop wasn't programmed to express attitudes, there were emotional protocols included in his database for him to be able to fit in better with human companions. But ever since his programs had been downloaded into the EEV's flight-recorder, his emotional protocols seemed to have taken a more active role within his thought-matrix. Bishop actually felt insulted by Decker's scoffs. And he wasn't the only one who felt insulted…

"And by your definitions, we don't have a 'need-to-know', is that the way it is?" Hicks did not try to hide his contempt. "I'm perfectly fine with being a soldier, but I never could stand those covert-operations or secret objectives! I want to be sure that the missions I am to carry out are for a just cause! I refuse to be part of some dirty games that some sleazy Company executives might come up with; I had enough of that with that slime-ball Carter Burke! We're not pawns to be played with – I demand to know what this is about!"

"You are in position to demand _nothing!_" Decker retorted with an icy tone. "Whatever the mission is: your job is to carry out your duty! No more, no less!"

"I'm declared dead, Colonel! That means I'm not obliged to carry out any orders! And I'm smart enough to know that you won't just dispose of us after all the trouble you had to get us, that would most likely jeopardize whatever mission this is. Otherwise we wouldn't even _be_ here! So I'm asking again, what's this about?"

"On the contrary Corporal, it is in your best interest to oblige if you ever want to be 'alive' again!"

"So we're down to blackmail now?" Hicks were both outraged and disgusted.

"You would rather call it an ultimatum!" Decker shifted his gaze over towards Newt and then back to Hicks, and then he laid his arms akimbo over his chest. "Very well, since you would know about it later anyway: you have been resuscitated for one reason only: to guide and assist us in our mission back to LV-426, or Acheron as colonists named it, to gather new specimens of the alien species!"

"_You're mad…!" _Hicks gasped in shock. Newt's expression in her face told that she was thinking the same thing as him. But Hicks quickly regained his composure.

"You're wasting your time," he explained calmly, even smiling. "The thermo-nuclear explosion obliterated every last one. There are no more that anybody can get any hands on."

"Unfortunately that's not entirely true," Bishop then said in a strange capitulated tone.

"What do you mean? They were all vaporized when the atmosphere processor blew, weren't they?"

"The ones that resided under the station, yes," Bishop confirmed. "But I tried to tell you that the Company has managed to patch in to the planetary deep-space relay satellite of Acheron. It survived the explosion and it is equipped with a long-range camera to scan the surface from its orbit. It detected that the source of the species are still intact."

"Source?" Hicks asked confused. "What source?" But it was Newt who with sudden dread understood what Bishop meant. "The _ship_!" she gasped out. The downed derelict that _her _family had found! The one her parents had entered and they had come out of it with that horrible thing on her father's face. Newt shuddered all over as she recalled that memory.

"Wasn't that also destroyed in the explosion?" Hicks asked, feeling some of Newt's dread getting to him as well. It was Decker who answered.

"No, it wasn't," he said flashing one of his rare smiles again. Hicks hated when he did that. "The Company determined that its hull must be of a unique alloy. And if it survived, then there's a good chance that the cargo of alien eggs also did. We're going in there to get them."

"NO! Y-you can't!" Newt shouted. "They'll destroy us all!"

"We have the means to handle them," Decker said all imperturbable to her outburst.

"But you can't handle them!" Newt argued. "They're too strong to contain! We _tried!_"

"You tried and failed because you didn't know what to expect," Decker went on still as imperturbable. "But you should know, since you survived a long time to learn much about them. Your experience with the aliens will be invaluable to our objective."

Newt sank back under her sheets with a knot in her stomach. _Her_ experience! Knowledge she involuntarily had to pick up after weeks of hiding from the monsters in the complex that used to be her home. It had never occurred to her before, but she was the only person alive now who knew the most about the aliens: behavior, strength, and appearances. Practically she knew just about everything about them with the use of eye. She understood that it was this knowledge that had drafted her into this mad plot, and there seemed to be no hope of escape. She hated the aliens more than anything else in the whole universe, and now this madman was to compel her to face them again. Hicks objected loudly to this.

"You can't force her to go back there! It'll kill her!"

"She's going. And so are you. If you want to be in charge of her protection then you got it."

"Right, and the best protection for her are back on Earth. _Without_ the aliens! We will not participate in any way with this! You _hear_ me, Colonel?"

"You seem to conveniently have suddenly forgotten that you and the brat are officially dead! On Earth you're lives won't be worth shit. As I said: it is in your best interest to oblige. If you don't, you'll never be 'alive' again. You will never even see Earth again, I'll see to that."

"YOU BLOODY…!" Hicks began to shout, but then he silenced. Insulting Colonel Decker would not improve the situation one bit. The risk was greater that it would only make matters much worse than they already were.

"You had better resume your rest, because you will go down there whether you're healthy enough or not! There will be no exception to the rule." Decker's words were final to the whole exchange of words and outbursts. Considering the whole discussion ended, he turned on his heel and left. Dr. Roman had been gone since a long time; no one had seen her leave. Hicks were left beside Newt's bed where he trembled with anger and despair; he couldn't believe that the Company could be so cruel to blackmailing them to do this.

But they had no choice. Being dead meant being erased from the records, no social number anymore to give them a decent life on Earth. The Company could recall that, but only if all of them cooperated. Otherwise there was no problem for Colonel Decker to jettison all of them out in space. No one would question his actions because officially they weren't even aboard the _Hercules._ Decker probably would do it too, if he found anyone of them of no further use. Hicks looked over at Bishop: the android looked apologetic. He looked over at Newt: the little girl probably couldn't understand all of what has happened, but he saw that she knew that she was as trapped as he was. He sat down at her side, draped an arm around her slim shoulders and hugged her to him. She only stared straight ahead, looking at an invisible spot somewhere in the room. There's was much he wanted to say to her, try to explain, to reassure her somehow. But there was nothing he could say that ever would do that, nothing could be assured; right now not even their own future. All he could say to her was: "I'm sorry."

"My throat's dry again," She replied quietly.

"I'll get you some water," Bishop said and went away. Newt finally raised her head, locking her eyes with Hicks'. No one said anything to the other, but there was a full understanding between the two. They both knew it would have been better if they had remained dead and abandoned on Fiorina.

* * *

Author's notes: It is not established how the eggs got aboard the _Sulaco_ in the movies – I choose this explanation as it is the one I like best and because I feel the simplest solutions are sometimes the best. And I do think that Ripley was acting quite irrational and was not herself in Alien3, so I adapted that into my story.


	6. The mess hall

After two days, Hicks and Newt was literary kicked out of sickbay with some strict prescriptions from Dr. Roman of continuous medication and rest so that their sutured wounds would not be strained. Hicks, who personally were glad to finally be out of there wouldn't have bothered to listen to the annoying woman if it wasn't for the fact that the health-regulations were more directed to Newt rather than to him. As a marine, Hicks had always been at good health; therefore he was surprisingly already fit to return to service even though he recently had gone through a dual organ-replacement surgery.

Granted, he was not at one-hundred percent efficiency – at best, his new lung was functioning at sixty percent capacity, so there would be some time yet before his blood supply was restored to capillary level. He knew that he would experience some breathless moments if he exerted himself, but it was something he could live with for the time being.

Newt was a different matter. As if the after-effects of the autopsy hadn't been bad enough, she required a more special treatment since she never had gotten enough time to recover from her borderline malnutrition after her solitude back in Hadley's Hope. Therefore the little girl was still very weak. Hicks had argued with Dr. Roman to let Newt remain in her bed for a while longer, but the expulsion from sickbay for both of them had been issued by Colonel Decker. The military C.O. needed all his biotechnicians for some final preparations vital to the mission, and he wouldn't allow Dr. Roman to be occupied with monitoring some final rehabilitation-procedures. The fact that Newt was still sick was something the colonel took no regard for.

Hicks were very worried for the child. Ever since Bishop had finished telling them what had happened, Newt had not said a single word. She had slipped back into the traumatized state she'd been in when they'd first found her in the complex of the ruined colony on LV-426; silent, withdrawn and as good as autistic. She had undoubtedly taken the last events of what had happened to her very hard – not only Ripley's death, but because of the violation to her body done by the one adult she had come to trust the most after she'd lost her parents. He was sure that she felt betrayed. _Damn it, Ripley. How could you do that to her?_ And now that she was being forced to return to the place where her trauma had originated, her condition would certainly not improve the least.

It was a good thing that she at least still found some comfort together with him. Hicks were leading Newt by her hand through the corridors and she followed along as meek as a lamb - but that was not a comforting reaction. Her relapsed catatonic state combined with being pumped full of pain-killing drugs made her more look like she was walking around in her sleep. Hicks didn't dare say a word. He wanted to talk to her, but he was afraid that he would say something that might upset the child. He was a soldier, not a counselor. He found himself not for the first time missing his old team - Corporal Dietrich was his former unit's medtech and although she'd been cool and tough-as-nails, she knew how to deal with traumas. But she was dead, along with the rest of his comrades. Bishop might be able to take up the job, especially since he had a first-hand insight in Newt's psychological profile having accessed her recorded memories in the hard-drive of her cryotube. But Bishop was at the moment in Fixer's workshop recharging his power cell. Hicks thought that must be quite a lowdown for the synthetic. The power supply of his original body had been almost consistent as the material used to build the androids also functioned as energy accumulators; constant power rotation, static energy of the surroundings and dynamos within the artificial bodies always replenished the energy that was used. Androids could also eat some food that could be converted into energy within their systems, but such things no longer served Bishop the way he was built now. Three days, maybe four if he didn't exert himself in some way, then it was a plug-in to a power-socket.

It was for the moment entirely up to Hicks to nurse the little girl back to health, and he was going to start with fetching both of them some food. Unfortunately because they were now only a day away from their destination, the dining room were filled with newly awakened soldiers that had remained in hypersleep during the whole trip. It would have been okay if it weren't for the fact that the 'Rawhides' had a reputation for bad language and inappropriate behavior, not at all the type of people Hicks wanted to bring Newt close to. As he opened the door to enter, they were both struck by loud laughter, screams and disgusting sounds of bad table manners. Hicks would have preferred to just pick up a tray of food and take it someplace else to eat, but Colonel Decker had forbidden digestion anywhere else. Gently leading Newt with him, he walked straight to the table were all food were stacked, hoping that the soldiers would be too busy with each other to notice him, a wish that of course wasn't granted.

"So Dagger was telling the truth," a loud voice broke over the rest of the noise. "We got the 'sissy' back with us!" Everyone burst into laughter; some cheered upon a tone of satire, while the others booed. The one who had spoken was Hurst, the drill sergeant who answered directly to the colonel, which made him second in command of the 'Rawhides'. He was a big and average built man. He was not muscular but neither was he fat. His bad attitude and harsh drill instructions completed his person. As always he wore a pair of sunglasses that he never took off, not even in hypersleep - he usually declared that the shades were part of his personality. Just like everyone else in this unit, Hicks didn't like Sgt. Hurst; therefore he only ignored him. Filling a tray for both him and the child with food that looked cheap and revolting, he surveyed the dining room for a place to sit down, away from the others. There was only one table that looked friendly enough since it was occupied by only two people: one a short-grown man in a red-colored mechanics uniform that was quite worn, the other an odd-looking scrawny person with an unruly mess of hair and stubble all over his face. Whoever they were, neither of them were military. The little man was busy going through some files on a small padd while the other just seemed to be in a world of his own as he had the typical look of 'thousand yard stare' in his eyes. At least he appeared to be harmless, so Hicks decided that they would sit there despite the remarks of the 'Rawhides'.

"What?" Hurst burst out with his mouth full of food. "Are you to good to eat with the rest of us grunts now, Hicks?" The others booed again.

"You know what they say:" Hicks replied. "Decent meals come with decent people. And as you may have noticed: I've already got the decent company I need."

"Since when is 'decent people' preferred before meals with bad atmosphere in the army? You always were the soft one, weren't you? No wonder you died!" Everyone roared with laughter at the sergeants accuse. Hurst had never been good with retorts, the only reason everybody laughed with him was because he had the rank and also because the men were always eager for a fight. So they waited for Hicks to take up on the challenge. He made them disappointed as he turned his back on them.

"Hah! We were right, weren't we?" another said. "He's a real 'sissy'." Like if they were shaking their heads in disgust they turned back to their meals. Normally Hicks would have taken the challenge, but this was not the time when he had other concerns to worry about. With the tray of food in one hand and the quiet girl in the other he addressed the lonely table's two occupants.

"Excuse me, do you mind if we take a seat? Anywhere else is taken if you take my meaning?"

"Be my guest," Fixer said having witnessed the exchange of words that had just occurred. "No one else seems to want our company anyway." Sitting down, Hicks divided the food between himself and the girl.

"As you may already know, I'm Hicks and this is Newt. And on her behalf I'd like to thank you for lending her one of your overalls."

Fixer smiled at Hicks. "Think nothing of it; it's only fortunate that we share almost equal size. Quite embarrassing on the Company's part actually; planning ahead everything vital to this mission and fails to take into consideration that she needed a set of clothing."

"I'm not surprised," Hicks said. "They only look at the anticipated results - a small detail along the way that doesn't affect the outcome always eludes their minds." Hicks himself were dressed in the standard military shirt and trousers that was mass-produced and stock-piled in the supply depots aboard the _Hercules_, so a new set of clothes for him was not any problem. He took a bite of his bread and almost spit it out.

"Yeech! I thought that the army's food couldn't get any worse!

"Tell me about it," Fixer agreed. "I can't help wondering what they made this of."

"Usually this is a quick mix of flour, dried yeast and milk powder," Hicks explained while forcing the bread down. "Just add water and put it into the oven for a while. But this must be made of second-rate supplies that have gone out of date. Even corn bread tastes better than this." Hicks took a sip of his tea to help the foul-tasting piece down. He immediately regretted it. "Eeew. Tastes like dishwater."

"So I noticed. Do I want to know why?"

Hicks made a face and shook his hand in decline. "Trust me; you don't! That's the army. To save time and energy they do everything as simply as possible without regard for taste or quality. That's why you won't find any refrigerator in the kitchen. Never take for granted that any of this will ever taste fresh."

Fixer shrugged. "At least Newt seems to like it."

Hicks looked at the child, but the sight didn't please him. Newt only stared at one spot on the table and ate mechanically, not giving any hint if she did like the food or not. Hicks couldn't help to wonder if she was so drugged beyond full consciousness that she didn't notice the bad taste or if her taste buds had become numb as a side-effect. He hoped that she simply was so hungry that she just didn't care. That's when he finally noticed that the fourth occupant, the odd-looker of a man was staring intensively at them.

"Is something wrong?" Hicks asked him, being on guard.

"You're the prodigals, aren't you?" the other said.

"We're what?"

"You're the dead ones - the people that died in the crash! I didn't believe Fixer when he said that you were alive. I saw your dead bodies. You were quite a mess I can tell you."

Hicks were not comfortable with this person's ranting, especially not around the subject of them being dead. "I'm sorry, who are you? What do you know about that?"

"I know everything about that," the man said somewhat dreamily. "I saw it all. I'm Morse. I was the one that survived the massacre of Fury 161."

Hicks felt a sudden lump form in his throat, instantly regretting sitting down at the table. A criminal! An inmate of Fiorina, where the EEV had crashed! He wondered what Morse's crimes were. Some of the prisoners there had been child molesters! What was the reason for _him_ being aboard on this mission?

"I saw your funeral," Morse continued without taking notice of Hicks' discomfort. "It was beautiful."

"Well, we missed it," Hicks said a-matter-of-factly, hoping to shut him up.

"That you did. God has other plans for you, no doubt about that. And I can add a whole new chapter to my book."

"What book?" In Hicks' opinion, the more Morse ranted, the less sense he made.

"You ought to read it. I've written three thus far ever since I was moved from 'Fury' and the lawyers allowed me to be put in an ordinary prison where we're allowed to use computers. I found salvation when God spared me of the massacre and now I'm honoring Ripley's memory and bravery by giving the world the entire story."

"That's what I'm reading here," Fixer said indicating to the padd he was holding. "I found it essential to familiarize myself to the whole history considering the mission we're on. Bishop let me in a little on it and I wanted to learn more. Morse was more than willing to provide the story."

"The whole story?" Hicks found this doubtful. "How did you manage to dig all that up? All of that information is as far as I know classified and being denied that it even exists."

"Yes. That's why the Weyland-Yutani Company has banned my stories all together," Morse stated. "But I know my way around computers, and I got accomplices who can hack into the most guarded networks there is. The Company tried to stop me in any way they can think of to prevent my books from being published on the net, first and foremost by revoking my computer-privileges. But I managed to outsmart them every time." Morse sounded proud of himself.

"So what are you doing here then?" Hicks asked. "If the Company doesn't want you to spread the story, why do they put you on a mission where you can gather more stuff that they want to keep a secret?"

Morse simply shrugged. "Maybe it's their way to keep tabs on me? Could be that I knew my way around the complex and I knew were you were buried. The colonel seemed to think that was important."

"That explains it!" Hicks scowled. "Decker's obsessed with time and efficiency. He's even willing to put up with civilians if it helps him keep his schedule or even ahead of it, otherwise he won't have any around him."

_That's the reason why __**we're**__ here!_

His gloomy thoughts were interrupted by a loud howl from the other table. It was coming from Dagger who seemed to be overjoyed over something.

"Goddamn it Dagger, get a hold of yourself." It was Crabbe, a smartgun operator who spoke. He was muscular built and he always shaved his head bald.

"Whoa… I feel good, man." Dagger exclaimed in a loud voice, slamming his fists on the table and knocking over some glasses. "Whoo-ho-hoo… this is what's make me feel alive. Anyone for arm-breaking? I feel great!"

"You're going to feel dead if you don't calm down, you asshole!" Crabbe yelled back.

"Christ, is he still on those things?" Hicks grimaced at the scene. He saw that Dagger was sweating all over, yet he had a widely grinning face and bulging eyes. Dagger was a shabby-looking person with a bad hygiene whose hair stood out everywhere, he always wore dirty clothes and he rarely shaved his face.

"What's the matter with that guy?" Fixer asked.

"He's high on JOY again, that's what the matter is." Hicks sighed.

"JOY? But that's an illegal substance, isn't it?"

"Quite so," Hicks confirmed. "The stuff makes everybody who takes it completely whacko."

The little man eyed Hicks curiously. "You seem to know a lot about these guys. So how long has Dagger taken that drug?"

"This is the unit I got enlisted to when… hrmm… when I first signed on to the Marine Corps. I saw early that I would never fit in, and I had to bust my ass to get a transfer away from them." Hicks drank his tea, grimaced. "You see, the 'Rawhides' is the military brass' ideal unit. Takes any mission they're given without ever questioning ethics that might be disregarded. Protecting civilian assets or interest has never been in question with these guys - only the goal of mission accomplishments by any means necessary, even if it means destruction of private property or sacrificial of innocent bystanders. I could never sink down to those levels.

"Anyway, to answer your second question, Dagger got enlisted here about the same time as I did, and I do suspect that he took JOY already back then. You see; Dagger is highly ambitious, striving to be something special that everyone would look up to. But he has one big problem: he's a coward, and quite a big one at that. That's why he uses JOY, to deaden the death guilt and all other factors that could hamper what little bravery he has. But it has often proven to hamper his judgment as well, and that always puts him in danger. Sometimes he can even be more dangerous to his comrades rather than to his enemies, there are many occasions where he'd got so eager out in the battlefield that he shot down his own guys in the process. I'm actually surprised that he's still alive and still in service after all this time."

"Then why does the colonel allow him to use it?"

"Because he seems to think that the drugs make Dagger more efficient!" Hicks snorted and forced down the last piece of the bread. "Colonel Decker despises soldiers who let their personal inhibits stand in the way of the mission. And since JOY takes away inhibitions, it makes him a better soldier; therefore Decker looks past the rule to confiscate it. The fact that Dagger probably will end up in a mental institution as a raving fool is nothing that concerns him."

"That's odd. I was under the impression that Decker always sticks to the book."

"Not a chance. Colonel Decker's history is full of false rumors of that kind. He won't even let military rule stand in the way of getting the job done."

"Then it's also a false rumor that Decker has been in the army for over 70 years?"

"I don't know what to believe of that." Hicks smiled at the ludicrous thought. "It is said that when he's not on a mission, he passes his time in cryo-stasis, which definitely increases his life span. He doesn't believe in free time."

"He lives only for his job, you mean?" Fixer said as he sipped his own mug.

Hicks nodded. "If you could call that living…"

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted as Dagger approached the table with a funny glint in his eyes.

"Hey, 'Sissy'…" he slurred, "how 'bout a lil' arm-wrestling…? Let's see if ya can take me down. He he hee…" He held up his right trembling arm, drooling from his mouth as he giggled.

"Get out of here, you fool!" Hicks said with a cold voice.

"Wha…? Wha's the matter? Ya chicken o' wha'?" He sat down heavily beside Fixer, with his elbow placed on the table, hand extended. Morse just cooked his eyebrow, watching the scene with interest.

"Get out of my sight." Hicks glared darkly at him. "I'm won't tell you again."

But Dagger didn't move. Instead he let his gaze wander somewhere else and Hicks stomach froze to ice when he realized that the drugged soldier was looking directly at Newt.

"Say… ya don' look too happy…" he said to her.

"That's none of your concern!" Hicks exclaimed, standing up. He flexed his fingers inward his palms, turning them into fists. "I'm warning you, Dagger: lay one hand on her and you're going to get it." Newt didn't move, but even though she was not fully awake, her senses became alert. Fixer was perplexed; he didn't know what to do. Morse didn't move either and it was a good thing that Hicks gaze was concentrated away from him, because Morse actually seemed to enjoy the rising danger of the scene.

"Well, I got just what ya need…." Before anyone could try to stop him, Dagger put some pills into Newt's mug of tea. Hicks immediately snatched it away from her. "What do you think you're _doing?_" he shouted.

"Just thought I'd cheer her up a bit," Dagger explained. "The stuff will make her feel alive just like a…"

Hicks didn't let him finish his sentence as he furiously threw his fist onto the others jaw, knocking the drugged man off his seat. The turmoil caught the attention of the other soldiers. They watched but did not interfere. Hicks crossed over the table and grabbed on to Dagger's dirty shirt to pull him up and throw him out of the mess hall. But Dagger managed to swing an uppercut on Hicks jaw and made him in turn stagger backwards. Dagger got to his feet, and started to giggle again. "So ya wanna fight after all, ya 'sissy'?" Hicks got back onto his feet and then both men stood their ground, facing each other.

"Fixer!" Hicks didn't take his eyes of his opponent. "Do me a favor and take Newt out of here. Now!" Fixer got up from his seat, rounded the table and grabbed Newt by her arms to lead her out of there.

"C'mon." He said to her as she hesitated. "He'll be all right, but it's best if you do not remain here." As he got the girl out through the door they heard Daggers excited voice: "Let's rock." Then the door closed, only the muffled sounds of cheering from the other soldiers could be heard together with a sound from a table that was knocked over.

"I'll might be doing both of them a disfavor, but I'm going to call the colonel and tell him about this." Newt barely heard the little man as he led her away. She was too busy trying to hold back the tears that threatened to roll down her cheeks.

* * *

Colonel Decker's office was a war-room. It served as a museum of arms and a battle-bridge in one. The back wall behind his chair was entirely a screen from corner to corner that right now showed the _Hercules_ destination: an image of planet Acheron_,_ where a computer-lit arrow marked the spot of the crash site of the derelict that housed the alien eggs. There were three different rows of digital numbers down in the right corner of the screen, one that showed the actual time of day, one that was counting down towards to 'estimated time of arrival' and one that marked the miles they had left to cross until they got to the planet. The desk itself was a helm- and tactical control, cleverly designed to be inconspicuous to anybody else but the colonel. If required, Decker could run the whole ship from his office.

The walls of the office served as the exhibit. Behind glass panels on the right side there were rows with all kinds of weapons from different periods of time: ancient swords, scabbards, cutlasses, sabers, knives and spears. There were even some Japanese Katanas among them. In any other exhibit the stabbing-weapons would usually hang with handle up and the blade pointing down to the floor – Decker displayed them with the blade pointing up. It symbolized a pose that was ready to strike instead of presenting a submission by pointing the blade down.

The left wall displayed the ballistic and projectile weapons: from crossbows to revolvers, bayonet-equipped rifles and German weapons from the Second World War. There were even grenades displayed - there were rumors that those were actually live and usable. The display cases surrounding the door into the office contained weapons of present day. The display of arms served as an inspiration of the history behind the design of every item to the kind of wars each and every one of them was used in. They helped the colonel adapt to whatever resistance his unit would encounter, therefore every piece of armament were all the way authentic and functioning – the blades were even sharp.

The colonel sat in his chair behind his desk thoroughly wiping his boots. Not once did he look up to the two bruised men that had recently been involved in the two-man fight in the mess hall. Hicks and Dagger stood at attention, nervously waiting for his acknowledgment. Decker didn't bother to look up even as he finally spoke.

"Who threw the first punch?" he asked shortly.

"It was him, Sir. The 'sissy'… He…"

"My name is Hicks, you moron. And you _asked_ for it."

"What did you do now, Dagger?" Decker still didn't look up.

"I didn't do anything, Sir. I just…"

"He tried to poison the girl!" Hicks shouted. "He put his blasted JOY-pills into her tea. Why do you let him keep them, Colonel?"

"I was only trying to cheer her up…" Dagger started to object.

"BULLSHIT! It was a clear attempt that you wanted to addict her to those things! Everybody knows that you think everyone should take JOY to overcome their guilt, but you're too stupid to admit the side-effects that it causes!"

"Now wait a minute, I don't have to take this shit from you…"

"Shut up, both of you!" Decker interrupted, still wiping his boots. "Did she drink anything of it, Corporal?"

"No, I took it away from her."

"Then there was no real harm done, was it, Corporal? There was obviously no need to strike him."

Hicks couldn't believe his ears. Was the colonel about to forgive Dagger for what he almost had done? Decker had said himself that Newt was needed for this mission; therefore her safety should be considered a natural importance. But here he was about to let Hicks take all the blame for the fight. That outcome seemed to have hit Dagger too, because he stood and grinned mockingly at him. Hicks had to fight hard to keep himself under control.

"Colonel Decker, I must object. Newt's safety is vital to this mission and therefore Private Dagger should be punished for his actions."

"And he will be, Corporal." Dagger gaped at Decker when he heard those words. "But you struck him instead of just reporting him to a superior officer. Therefore I am now forced to administer discipline to both of you. You are both on penalty duty. Sgt. Hurst will drill the two of you for extra two hours after your standard training this morning. And tomorrow the two of you will clean all the toilets on deck C, using only toothbrushes. Dismissed." During his whole speech, the colonel hadn't looked up once from his work on his boots. Dagger gave out a sigh and saluted, but Hicks wasn't ready to surrender.

"Colonel, why won't you confiscate Daggers pills? They are illegal and…"

"If you question my authority one more time, Corporal, I'll _double_ your penalty! Now get out, both of you!"

With clenched teeth Hicks saluted and turned on his heel and stormed out from the office. Once outside he stopped and took deep breaths to calm down. Even though he was back on duty he still had to be careful not to let his irritated state of mind strain on his health. He heard the office door close behind him and Dagger came up beside him.

"Well thank you so much, butthead!" he said angrily. "As if it wasn't enough with my shifts of peeling potatoes, now I'll have to scrub dirty pots!"

"You got yourself to blame, dirtbag!" Hicks retorted. "But why are you complaining? You should feel right at home together with that dirt, shouldn't you?"

"Do you want another slug on your face, _Sissy_?"

"Do you really think you can take me on, _shithead_?" Both men were ready to hit the other when the door to the colonel's office opened and his cold voice were heard from the inside:

"Consider your penalty _doubled_!" Decker said and the door closed again. Hicks sighed, and then he pointed his finger at Dagger and directed him to take a route of his own away from the corridor they were in. He himself would continue on the direction he first had taken. It was best if the both of them separated now before they landed themselves into more trouble. Dagger made an insulting face to him, but went on his way. Hicks continued on his, thinking that he now had to find Newt. He had no idea where she may have disappeared to after the incident in the mess hall.

* * *

Author's notes: About Morse writing books is not something I made up. In the novelization of 'Resurrection' and in atleast one written spinoff, it was said that Morse actually did write some books after the incident on Fiorina, and Annalee Call had read those 'banned' stories which helped make up her mind to look Ripley up.


	7. The Weyland Curse

_Acheron._ Everything Newt knew about life, she had experienced on that rock. She was born there six years ago… well, _nine_ years ago actually, but the past three years didn't really exist in her mind as she had not been aware of them. To her it was still like only the week before she'd been there. But the happy times of it felt like they'd been gone for a whole lifetime.

Her birthdays, especially her fifth one when she got her doll Casey… (Two weeks too late actually because the supply-ship was delayed at the time, but the doll was still meant as a birthday present. Not that it mattered now since she had lost that doll as well...) Christmas days… the public gatherings of all the colonists twice a year for festivities… no matter how much she tried she couldn't recall those memories. She knew she had lived them, but every good memory she desperately tried to embrace would instead only bring up the memories of _them_! It always went back to the accursed day she'd first saw the alien ship where her mother and father had gone inside, leaving her and her brother alone in the tractor outside. Her father's face was forever gone - it was for all eternity hidden behind that horrible parasite that hugged his skull… pulsing… breathing… Newt shivered at the memory, feeling another teardrop rolling down her face.

She had lost all track of time ever since then. All of the sudden as she remembered, the colony were overwhelmed by the dreadful monsters that had slaughtered everybody. Only she had got away by hiding in the air ducts. The last screams of her people hunted her still, as well as the silence that had followed. Afterwards came the long days of loneliness while she hid in narrow places where the monsters couldn't reach her, living in what felt like a never-ending nightmare. Everyone she had ever known was dead, and she had been alone for many weeks. Not even she could understand how she managed to survive for so long; she only knew that she never would consider herself lucky to be alive.

As Newt watched from the view-port in the deserted corridor, the planet came closer and closer into view, filling up the whole window. It was so close now that she could almost make out the rocky surface between the openings in the dark clouds that shrouded the planet. That world was the only life she has ever known, and it was the one planet Newt never wanted to set her foot on again. It was bad enough that the horrible days she'd experienced down there would hunt her forever; she didn't need for the nightmare to continue.

She suddenly found herself wondering how Ripley felt when she was forced to return here. _Ripley_… Of all the bad things Newt had been through, that woman had been the only good that had come out of it - she had been the one glimmer of hope in the midst of the girl's despair. At least Newt was still allowed to remember the first time she'd met her. It was still like last week: her involuntary solitude suddenly interrupted by strangers invading her realm, people she'd never seen before and with an attitude that was far from friendly. They had scared her almost as much as the monsters did and she wanted nothing to do with them. So she ran off, escaping back into the air duct that led into her hideout. But one woman had followed her inside and caught her right within her own nest. To try to escape the adults grasp had proved to be futile; her energy had been too much depleted. But the adult hadn't harmed her - instead the child found some safety within those arms, a safety that she hadn't felt for a long time. While she did not find the soldiers any impressive, she found herself willing to open up to the woman. It wasn't just because she had been so nice to her, but because instinctively Newt had sensed that the woman somehow understood the girl's plight, her fear and terror.

And her instincts had proven to be correct: the adult, Ripley, really _had_ understood as she herself had faced those monsters before. Adult and child were two of a kind, that's why they had become so close. The soldiers themselves never understood - they didn't want to, and they paid the ultimate price for it. But with Ripley Newt found protection and more… their time together had been short, but during that time Newt grew to love the woman with the same affection that she once had for her own mother. She had secretly prayed that Ripley might've been willing to love her back, maybe even seeing her as a daughter. And in the end Ripley came through for her, rescuing her from the monster's grasp and taking her away right before the explosion that had vaporized the last remains of her ruined home. Newt had thought that she somehow could find the means to live again after they'd escaped the planet and Ripley put her to sleep for the trip to Earth. She should have known it was too good to be true…

Heavy footsteps interrupted her thoughts, but she didn't need to turn her head. She knew who it had to be…

"Are you all right?" Bishop asked softly.

"N-no…" Her voice was broken. She wiped the tears off her face with the back of her hand. "Bishop… I d-don't wanna go back there…"

"I understand how you feel. I rather not go back down there myself. After all, I lost many good friends down there. But of course… it must be much worse for you." He tried to sooth her by placing his hand on her shoulder. "Try not to worry. We'll be down there with you."

"It won't make any difference! It won't matter where I'll be, since _they_ want to bring the monsters up _here!_ They think they can hold them. They can't, it's inevitable. The monsters will find a way to get free, they always do." Newt sighed, her head dropped from the view-port, hanging towards the floor. "They don't understand… none of them ever will, because they don't want to. They won't survive. _They will all die_."

Bishop was not taken aback. He had expected Newt to say this in accordance to her own experience. She had after all seen it with her own eyes; the outcome would never be something other than that. Bishop found it fascinating how the child delivered her statement with assurance and cool certainty, but at the same time he felt sorry for the little girl. The terror of the aliens had made her prematurely attain the wisdom of an adult, but she was still on the emotional level of her true age. No doubt those two senses clashed which caused her to feel like an emotional wreck. Hicks had told him earlier that he suspected that she probably never could be a child again and the synthetic was inclined to agree with the corporal. He wished he could say something to reassure her, but he knew that no form of speech would accommodate this girl. She would see through such words as if they were as transparent as view-port she was looking through right now. He had no choice but to go business.

"We need to go. We're wanted in the ready room for briefing."

"Me too?" she asked quietly.

"You're not exactly asked for, but since you for some reason are part of this mission, I really think that you should hear it too."

* * *

"This briefing started one minute and thirty-five seconds ago. Didn't Fixer equip you with a clock, _Robot_?" Colonel Decker stared angrily at Bishop as he entered the ready room.

"I had to find Newt, Sir. I thought that she should be present for this since she will go down there with the rest of us."

"Who said that you could make such a decision on your own accord, _Robot_? Remember your place or I'll leave you on the dustball below us! Now get in line and listen up!" Bishop led Newt past the troopers to stand beside Hicks. The corporal smiled at the girl but she didn't return it. She was still too angry with him for getting involved in the fight in the mess hall. It had brought up unpleasant memories of her annoying older brother as he sometimes had gotten into fights with other kids. And yet she missed her brother just as much as she missed her parents.

"Now that everybody is finally here," Decker said aloud. "…we will now hear from the man who sent us on this mission: This is a recording that was made just before we shipped out. Everybody had better _listen_, because it will not be repeated! In fact: I got orders to destroy this recording once it's been played."

Hicks understood now that they were standing before an imagery wall that could display almost all kinds of pictures and environments. Hicks recalled that the walls on Gateway Station above Earth used to play images of rainforests, but he doubted very much that this wall had been installed aboard the _Hercules_ for recreation. More likely it was used only for briefings or tactical views. Hitting a button on the remote, Colonel Decker activated the imagery wall. The people present found themselves looking at a room that was in perfect alignment to the rest of the chamber. It was as if they really stood outside a real one, the image was that perfect synchronized. No, not a room - an office, with a large desk in the middle made of oak. And behind that desk sat a man, who looked quite weary, with grey thinning hairline and with pale shrunken skin, but yet someone who still looked regal and had the composure of a man with full authority – and he looked quite familiar to two of the people present.

"Bishop," Newt gasped. "It's… _you_!" The man that was displayed on the wall did indeed_,_ once you looked past his apparent weariness, look like Bishop - or at least how the android looked like before he was bisected by the alien queen aboard the _Sulaco_. At one time in the past years it might have been difficult to distinguish them from one another, but now when the synthetic was rebuilt inside the bulky environmental suit, it was an easy effort to tell them apart.

"Not exactly me," Bishop told the girl. "That's Charles Michael Weyland: the present CEO of Weyland-Yutani Company, and the man who designed me."

"Why'd he made you look like him?"

"I'll tell you later," Bishop motioned her to be quiet before the two of them attracted the unwanted attention of the colonel. "Let us just listen…"

"- At ease, soldiers!" the CEO on the wall addressed the personal who was watching. Most of them snorted at the greeting, as if a civilian had expected them to stand at attention and salute for him.

"- Time is of an essence, so I will cut straight to the case. First of all as your colonel has undoubtedly already informed you, but which can never be reminded one time too many: this mission is _ultra-classified_! That means that your true destination is not registered on any files, and the full extent of the mission is known only to your Commanding Officer. Officially you are not even anywhere near the region of space in which you are now, so you can therefore not expect any kind of aid or back-up support should things go wary – you can't even contact your superiors back on Earth, so you had better follow your mission-parameters to the letter. If things go wrong, you are on your own!"

"In other words:" Hicks muttered under his breath so that only the one's closest could hear him. "We're all _expendable_! And we're as good as already written off." Many of the other soldiers seemed to have come to that conclusion as well, as they looked around at each other. The Company CEO displayed on the wall went on:

"- I have enlisted you to this mission because not only are you one of the best units, you are also the unit who is known to do your work without asking questions. And questions are something you will not ask even after this mission is accomplished. If you do: you will be charged with _treason_ and made to disappear – forever!"

"No need to threaten us!" a person in the crowd exclaimed. Someone else agreed with the first. "Yeah, we know the drill."

"- I promise you this: accomplish this mission for me and you will all be handsomely rewarded with what each and one of you desires – to some of you I can even offer a whole new life." Hicks realized that that was directed to himself and Newt. "- So it is not only the reputation and the future of this Company that I'm putting on stake here, it is also within your own interest that this missions pays off. I hope that I can count on you – _all_ of you! Good luck." The video ended and the wall went blank.

"Hey, what's this about?" raised voices was immediately filling the chamber, filled with evident annoyance. "Who does he think he is?"

"_Ten-HUT!"_ Sgt. Hurst roared above the noise. Military discipline instantly kicked in and everybody stood firm and erect, no more protest being uttered. Decker now addressed everybody in a loud and commanding voice.

"Now that we have heard that, I will tell you how we will proceed. In three hours and fifteen minutes from now I want everybody and everything ready for departure in dropship 01 down to planet LV-426. That's the one below us in case you couldn't comprehend that. Our mission is to land in the crash site of a derelict ship, enter it and extract specimens of extra-terrestrial life forms that's stored there. We will…"

"Sir. Will we…" Private Dagger suddenly spoke up.

"_I will not tolerate to be interrupted!_"

"But I was only wondering…"

"Questions will be asked later, Private. You're on report." Beside Colonel Decker, Sgt. Hurst made a note on his writing-pad with a satisfying smile on his face. Decker continued:

"We will gather two-hundred specimens if there are that many available to collect, transport them up here and store them in section twelve, which is the storage-room for toxic waste. There will be many trips up and down so be prepared for our staying here for at least a week. _Now_ are there any questions before I'll go on?" He flashed an angry glare at Dagger who immediately spoke up:

"What kind of resistance will we meet from these aliens?"

"None. That ship has been there for nobody knows how long, therefore there is no one left of its original crew. The specimens are as far as we know immobilized where they are; therefore we should face no problems."

"What? No resistance?"

"Aw, but Sir…? Dagger wasn't the only one who was disappointed; everybody else started to protest as well. The 'Rawhides' lived to fight and kill. Another trooper now raised his hand.

"Yes, Dobermann?"

Hicks looked over at the other smartgun operator besides Crabbe. He didn't know the man too well, only that Dobermann was a nickname he preferably used - his real name was unknown. It was probably because his ugly face reassembled the looks of an actual Doberman dog. He also had a halitosis that matched the bad breath of the same mutt.

"This sounds like a science mission and not military. Why'd the top-brass pick us for this?"

"It is not your place to question the top-brass, trooper. You will do as you are told, without objections." Every soldier shook his head in disgust. Had Hicks not been through his recent experience with the aliens before this, he would probably do the same. But Hicks knew more what to expect down there than the others, therefore now he raised his hand. Decker nodded at him with his usual sour expression.

"With all due respect Sir, the specimens aren't that completely immobilized as you claim. From my experience, they become quite active once we get into close proximity to them and that's when they become deadly! Just how are we supposed to transport them up here without risk of… shall we say: 'contamination'?"

"Dr. Roman." Decker called behind his back and stepped aside. The biotech stepped forward pulling along a low carriage. On it stood two items. One was a metallic spider-like device: it was barely three quarters of a meter tall standing on four flat legs with pointed feet that was connected to a single coupling chamber on top of them. The whole device ended with a large loop strong enough to be carried around with. The other item on the carriage was an alien egg. Newt gasped as she saw it and immediately rushed behind Bishop's legs, wide-eyed. Hicks were almost as upset as the child was.

"Where did you get _that?!_" he almost yelled.

"Relax, Corporal." the biotech said. "It's empty."

"But where does it _come _from?" Hicks insisted on knowing.

"You could say that it's a gift." Roman would not reveal any more information than that. Instead she addressed everybody in the ready room.

"Gentlemen. This is, in a simple word an 'Egg-claw'. The specimens you're supposed to pick up are as you can see here organic eggs with an opening on the top. This thing is quite simple: You turn the handle on the top to open the claw, like so," Roman twisted the loop and the spindly legs spread even more apart. "Place it over the egg and twist the handle again to close it." She did this to the empty egg for demonstration. The spindly legs grabbed tightly around the oval shape. "Once secured, the organism will be unable to get out and thanks to the 'legs' that reaches almost under the bottom of the egg you can easily carry it with you. As long as the claw stays on you should be quite safe."

None of the troopers said anything. They all felt that this was a waste of their time. It was Sgt. Hurst that now voiced a question.

"And you are sure that that thing will fit all the eggs down there?"

"We are quite sure that there is only this one size of the eggs," Roman explained. "The ones aboard the Colonial Marines ship: the _Sulaco _were of equal size." Here Roman flashed an amused look towards Hicks and Bishop. "This is one of the two empty eggs found aboard that ship that the scientists on Earth of course took careful study of. There is no doubt that the claws will work to our full benefit."

Hicks cursed silently. Bishop was secretly impressed. Newt only shivered at the sight of the egg. Although empty, it symbolized all the terror that was connected to the aliens.

Decker stepped forward. "Are there any more questions?"

Crabbe raised his hand. "Any chance that we can go back to sleep and let Dr. Roman and her crew do the work by themselves instead of wasting our time with this joke of a mission?" he asked with clear reluctance. Decker turned to his drill sergeant.

"Put him on report for that obstinate tone," he said. Hurst grinned with anticipation of disciplinary administrations for the two cheeky underlings who had the nerve to show insubordination during the briefing.

* * *

It was a disgruntled bunch of people who left the briefing room. Unlike Hicks's old team, save for Vasquez and Drake, the 'Rawhides' only longed for causing destruction and possibly score kills when they were on a mission. Being deprived of those privileges, it was like taking away the whole reason for them being soldiers all together. It was a classic case of 'men and their toys', and they were not allowed to play with those toys on this assignment.

Hicks's own disgruntlement was directed elsewhere though. He was just as confused as Newt was. Who was that man who looked like a dead ringer to Bishop's original look (save for his apparent high age,) and was his role in all of this? He asked the android for clarification of the mystery as the three prodigals walked down the corridor.

"Charles Michael Weyland is the CEO of Weyland-Yutani Company," Bishop explained to his friends. "And he's actually responsible for every angle of everything that has happened concerning the xenomorphs. It was he who orchestrated the plan to have the _Nostromo_ change course and land on LV-426 in order to obtain the first sample."

"But that was _sixty_ years ago!" Hicks pointed out, seeing the obvious impossibility. "And he looked about seventy in the video!"

"You need to understand one crucial thing about the family-line of Weyland: they're obsessed with power and prosperity. However, prosperity is in one specific area denied to them."

"What do you mean?"

"It is often referred to as 'the Weyland curse': the family has been rich and powerful even before Charles Weyland of the twentieth century founded Weyland Industries and began to change the world. However he was affected with an advanced case of bronchogenic carcinoma: cancer in his lungs. He died the year 2004. Before him: every family member of the Weylands all contracted a terminal disease and expired somewhere in their middle-ages. It was quite frustrating for them: they had power and wealth, and yet they couldn't stop themselves from dying in an early age.

"The one who managed to hold on the longest was Peter Weyland, son of Charles's brother who was a professor of Comparative Mythology. Thanks to the billions Peter made from the company he'd inherited from his uncle, he could afford to cheat death by undergoing several medical procedures: complete change of blood, heart replacements, bone marrow transplants and rejuvenation therapies. He reached an age over a hundred years when in the end even the medical procedures reached its limit. Around that time he had already cemented a partnership between Weyland Industries and the Yutani Company and he allowed their representatives to run the business while he spent a great deal of his final years in a stasis pod to prolong his life while waiting for a new breakthrough. One possibility seemed to present itself in 2091 when a group of archaeologists found clues of extraterrestrials visiting Earth in mankind's earliest years. Among those clues they also found a star map that led to the moon of LV-223, a planet that's actually not that far from our current position."

"What kind of extraterrestrials?" Hicks asked.

"Apparently a bio-technological advanced race. The archaeologists actually believed the extraterrestrials to be the creators of the human race, and they even managed to convince Peter Weyland of that. Weyland founded an expedition of the ship _Prometheus_ to LV-223, and he secretly went along with them obviously in hopes of finding the means to prolong his life even further. They should have arrived there around Christmas day 2093. Unfortunately I know nothing if they found anything – the expedition was to my knowledge never heard from again. Peter Weyland was declared dead 2097, leaving no known children behind. There were rumors that he had a daughter, but no one knew who she was so the lawyers could not leave the company to her.

"Enter Charles Michael Weyland: Peter Weyland's young great-nephew on his baby brother's side. Knowing that Peter had no son of his own to inherit the company, Michael had made sure to obtain a large share of stock both from W.I. and Y.C. – when the two companies officially merged into one, it turned out that he owned over 50 percent of the stock with them together, allowing him to wrench power as soon as Peter was declared dead. He became one of the world's most powerful men over night."

Hicks actually smirked. "Let me guess: that's when the 'Weyland curse' got to him. Right?"

"Correct," Bishop confirmed. "Michael was diagnosed with an aggressive variant of degenerative artery syndrome; however by that time it was still dormant. He began taking medications to keep it that way and then he adopted a habit of his great-uncle: He spent a great deal of time in stasis while waiting for his researchers to make a breakthrough for treating his illness, mostly up to six months a year."

"He sounds desperate," Hicks commented.

"He still is. But let's not get ahead here. The mystery of the _Prometheus_ expedition left the Company no peace, so they made continuous long range scans of the area of LV-223 in hopes of finding something about their fate. That's when several years later they detected the signal from LV-426, the beacon of the crashed derelict that was a warning to tell others to stay away." Both Newt and Hicks looked more intensively at the android now. "Since the signal originated from the same area of space, the Company presumed that it had to be the same language of the extraterrestrials the expedition was searching for. They deciphered it and learned of the alien life form – there was a highly detailed description of them included. Michael Weyland's interest was quite piqued, so he arranged for a company-agent to go there and collect a specimen aboard a commercial tug that was issued orders to change course as a response to the beacon. This operation took place the year 2122. The Company-agent's name was Ash – an android."

Hicks looked astounded as it all became clear. "The _Nostromo_! Ripley's ship." Bishop nodded.

Newt broke her silence for the first time since the briefing. "They _knew_ what the monsters were capable of and they sent her there anyway?! But… they must've known that the people on her ship would die?!"

"They did. But the _Nostromo's_ crew was considered expendable. The value of the alien was far greater in the Company's opinion."

Newt could hardly believe what she was hearing. "Does that mean that _my_ people were expendable too?"

Although much of his face was hidden under the metallic plates and dark goggles, Bishop looked saddened. "Your people should never have had to face the aliens at all, had Michael not been so… thorough. You see, when the _Nostromo_ never came back, the Company figured that something had gone very wrong. They declared the ship lost, but they had to withhold the circumstances in order to collect the insurance money. Had it been revealed that the Company orchestrated for the _Nostromo_ to pick up a hostile life form, the insurance company would refuse to pay. Weyland-Yutani Company would have to take the whole loss, and that wouldn't sit well with the stock-holders."

Hicks sneered. "It always comes down to the money, doesn't it?"

"Weyland sealed the files himself, concealing everything that was ever connected to LV-426… unfortunately that meant that the planet were never even red-flagged. The branch of the Company that ran the deep-space colonization-operations had no way of knowing of the danger the planet posed when they cross-checked it through the data-base. And by the time Ripley returned after drifting through space for fifty-seven years, none of the Company officers who'd been involved in the _Nostromo_-operation were active anymore. Weyland was of course the exception, but he was indisposed at the time as he was in stasis, leaving his subordinate executives to handle the investigations and none of them believed her story." Here Bishop looked directly at Hicks. "You're well aware of what happened afterwards, aren't you?"

Hicks nodded. "Oh yes. That's when Carter Burke took matters into his own hands and dropped all of us into the meat-grinder."

"Mr. Burke was an overly ambitious underling who was looking for a quick way to wealthy life. He obviously figured that if there was a truth to Ripley's story, he could make the Company a new fortune in bio-research and earn him a promotion. He conducted a discreet investigation, sending a directive to the colony of LV-426 to have a team to investigate the coordinates…"

"You mean sending _my_ family out there!" Newt's tone was very bitter and none of the other two could blame her for that. "So it was _his fault!_"

"He did overstep his boundaries," Bishop continued. "But by the time the word had reached Michael Weyland, the military was already too far involved and the rescue mission was ready to go. That's when he sent _me_ in."

"What do _you_ have to do with Weyland?" Hicks almost demanded.

"Because of him spending half his lifetime in stasis to avoid his illness to break out, his authority to be CEO of the Company was beginning to get questioned by the other stock-holders. Therefore he created _me_ in his image to fill out his shoes during his absence."

Hicks looked at Bishop curiously. "I never met Michael Weyland in person, but from what I am hearing; you are nothing like him?"

"I'm not. Weyland never got that far with me. We all receive a basic programming when we're built, but like with humans we learn as we go along. Some are allowed to expand to become individual artificial persons while others are being programmed with different parameters for other tasks intended. I was a servant under Michael Weyland for a while to assist and to keep close progress with his illness with my scientific knowledge in an attempt to find a cure. But I was also to observe how he walked, how he expressed his words, what rhythm his heart beat in and so on so that I could completely mimic and become him, until I eventually was to be programmed with his personality to act in his stead. I confess that I did not look forward to that; therefore I was grateful when I was assigned to the _Sulaco_ and your team, Hicks. Since it had been ages Weyland showed his face in public, no one would know my connection to him or question me being a duplicate to him. I was there to observe the mission and to do a study of the alien life forms and then I would report back to him."

"You were a spy!"

"In a way - but I personally never meant anyone of you any harm. I was just following my instructions."

"And what now?" The three-some now stopped in the middle of the corridor. Hicks had grown unsure what to think of the synthetic. He had respected Bishop, even liked him. But after this revelation… "Where does your loyalty stand today?"

Bishop looked pained. "I'm afraid my primary functions stand. I'm programmed to do his bidding even though I can think for myself. Weyland made sure to supply Fixer with a special directive which he had uploaded into my system-programs as he rebuilt me. That file has been implemented and has now rescinded all of my other priorities. Obtaining the alien life form is my creator's last chance and I must help him to get them."

"You must?" The corporal was not happy to hear this. "What makes the aliens so important anyway?"

"Michael Weyland is dying, Hicks. He went to Fiorina personally to convince Ripley to surrender the alien to him. There he received a hard blow to his head that cracked his skull. And then he experienced tremendous despair when he lost the last alien as Ripley killed herself. The combined traumas activated his illness. You saw the video; he's succumbing quickly to the artery disorder as he deteriorates even more for every day that goes by. He's desperate to get the specimens."

"He's dying and all he cares about is to get the aliens for the bio-weapons research? He should get his priorities straightened out."

"In a way he has. Nobody either within the Company or outside knows that he's dying – do you know what would happen if the stock-holders found out? They're looking at a forty-percent fall in Weyland-Yutani Company share prices… Like you said: in the end it always comes down to the money. And this time there is no heir to take over, that's why the drop is in danger of becoming so great. That's why he had to conduct this mission in absolute secrecy, to keep everybody in the dark about his condition. It's his last chance to save his life."

"His life? He thinks that the aliens can save his _life_?!"

"Don't you see? That's what I been trying to tell you about the Weylands with this background story. A family who's always been obsessed with wealth and prosperity – Peter Weyland who went to LV-223 in hopes of finding new means of prolonging his life, and now Michael?

"It's not just for bio-weapons research that he searches the aliens; the message from the derelict told of the species being capable of laying dormant for maybe thousands of years – it seems that the alien's lifespan may be indefinite! And that's what Michael Weyland wants! He is convinced that the aliens actually hold the key to _eternal life!"_

Hicks stared at Bishop with disbelief. "Are you _serious?_ That's a foolish man's dream!"

"It's the dream of all men who wields power. And it adds up to powerful men's usual greatest fear: To _lose_ that power!"

* * *

Author's notes: The family line of Weyland: names and relations, occupations and dates of operations mentioned – most of it come from the trivia of the site IMDB (Internet Movie Data Base) so not much of it is made up by me. One other change I made was concerning Charles 'Bishop' Weyland – yes, from the movie AvP. I included his name and illness, but not the events in the pyramid under the ice in Antarctica – that is totally ignored. All facts concerning _Prometheus_ are also authentic as far as I've been able to follow. The 'Weyland-curse' and the reason for the obsession with the aliens however is all mine.


	8. The Rawhides

This whole operation angered Hicks – it angered him tremendously because it was downright _crazy_! As if the objective to collect alien specimens wasn't bad enough; they were to go down to the planet practically without _weapons_ which were sheer lunacy! Granted, they wouldn't be completely defenseless; military protocols required them to always go down in full combat gear, and that included weapons as it was standard procedure. But since this was nothing but a retrieval mission, Colonel Decker called the decision for every soldier to embark with a minimum amount of ammunition as possible. He made it clear that the mission objective exceeded all other priorities, and since the probability that they would encounter resistance was as good as moot, weapons were superfluous. They were each allowed to bring their weapon of choice with one loaded clip each, but no more. The protests were loud, but short – and of course futile. Decker's word was final. Hicks made sure to at least pack a small gun besides a pulse rifle. It was better to be safe than sorry.

Personal preparations with combat gear was something Hicks were more than used to as he had plenty of practice in his days with Sgt. Apone's unit and that was fortunate for his own sake. If he were to earn any kind of respect from the 'Rawhides', he had to make sure that he didn't show any weakness nor doing something that would make him look like a fool in front of them. He didn't require any help from somebody else and that was fine with him because he didn't want it. Once he finished snapping together his armor, he threw a quick check on the other troopers and their preparations. At first look, he couldn't tell any of the others apart. While Sgt. Apone had let the members of his late unit decorate their outfits as they liked, Colonel Decker would not allow such a ridiculous thing. The C.O. wanted everyone and everything to look the same for maximum military efficiency - any deviation could cause confusion out in the battlefield. Private Dagger was of course the one who was finished last; his drugged behavior made him a slow dresser. Hicks wondered just how Colonel Decker saw him as an efficient asset. Any other combat unit would throw him out without honors.

Usually the troopers were ready for action after suiting up, but this mission demanded another precaution. Planet LV-426, also known as Acheron, was today in the beginning of a nuclear winter. The thermonuclear explosion of the atmosphere processing station had poisoned everything with both Gamma- and Ionizing radiation that had made the planet uninhabitable for a long time coming. Therefore they needed to put on a complete hazard-protective suit against radiation over their armors as well. Once finished dressing up, Hicks didn't go over to help out any of his Rawhide-neighbors; instead he went over to Newt to give her a hand with the special-designed hazard-protective suit that she had borrowed from Fixer – no other costume would fit her. The only one who didn't need a protective suit was Bishop: the thermo-armor he had been rebuilt inside was designed to withstand hazardous areas.

"Stick close to either Bishop or me, honey," Hicks gently told the child as he helped her seal her suit. "Don't wander off anywhere without letting us know." The young girl was silent, but she nodded an acknowledgement.

Soon all of them were wearing their protective suits, only the heads had been left bare. They would fold up the hoods once they reached the surface of Acheron.

"Tench-hut!" Sgt. Hurst suddenly burst out. Everybody got in line and the drill sergeant looked them all over. "Bah, what a sad bunch of dirt-bags, are you really calling yourself marines? Well, since we got nothing else: MOVE OUT! Into the APC! _Move it. Move it. Move it._" Everybody rushed to the six-wheeled armored war-wagon. "C'MON!" Hurst burst on. "Get your sorry asses in there!"

Newt recognized the design of the APC as she followed them inside. It was the same kind of vehicle Hicks's team had arrived with the first time. The difference was that instead of being painted military green, it was military gray all over. It was the same with the dropship that stood prepared for them; it was painted in the same gray color. Once inside, she saw Hicks pat his hand on the seat next to him, signaling her to sit there. He then strapped her firmly into place.

"This is going to be a tough ride, kid. But don't worry; just pretend that you're on an amusement park."

"I can't. I've never been on one."

"Then that's where I'll take you when we get back to Earth."

"_If_ we get back to Earth, you mean." The meaning behind the words was clear: don't make promises you're not sure to keep. Hicks had to remember that he needed to think twice about what he said to her – this child would not be fooled. She had heard several promises before, and none had been kept.

The last one into the APC was none other than Colonel Decker who closed the hatch and took an empty seat just opposite Newt's.

"Morgan!" the colonel called down the aisle towards the driver compartment. "Everyone's inside, so get this heap of junk rolling! We got a schedule to keep."

"Aye, aye, Sir!" a voice called back, and the giant vehicle trembled as it got in motion. The driver named Morgan parked it with perfect skill on the waiting dropship's cargo-ramp. Once the ramp with the APC was retracted into the belly of the flier, the take-off procedure took place. The dropship was lowered down into its giant airlock for depressurize and then half a minute later, it plunged straight down towards the planet as it was released from the _Hercules_.

As always this kind of drop made everybody's stomachs to lurch. Hicks had been through these kinds of rides many times before - he usually took a nap during the flight down, but this time he couldn't relax to do so. This drop was like a disturbing _Déjà' vu_, since the last time he participated in one, he'd dropped down towards an awaiting death. He threw a glance at Newt, and became quickly concerned. Newt sat grimacing, clutching her chest.

"What's wrong?" he asked her.

"M-my chest… this is hurting…"

Hicks cursed for letting that thing slip his mind. The stresses of suddenly leaving an artificial gravity like this were not merciful to a healing body; he actually felt some of it in his own wounds. But while Hicks had made an almost full recovery thanks to the fact that the titanium-rods had replaced his shattered rib-bones, Newt's cleaved ribcage was still far from healed. The bumpy ride could damage her further. He didn't know what to do, because there was no way to make it easier for her. Then he saw Decker, who displayed the clear expression that he felt no sympathy at all for the girl. Hicks felt anger building up in him again.

"Damn it, Decker! I told you she wasn't fit to go on this mission!" Decker's expression didn't change. "Look at her, she's in pain! It will be on your responsibility if she'll be hospitalized again because of this!"

"Have you forgotten that you are not officially here, Corporal?" Decker said. Hicks clenched his jaw. He actually had forgotten that they were still declared dead. "I am not responsible at all for what happens to either of you. And don't blame me for her pain. It wasn't I who conducted an autopsy on her."

Hicks looked Decker into his cold eyes. The words hurt, because there was a disturbing truth in them. "Remember Hicks, the wardens of 'Fury 161' were under orders not to touch your bodies. If Lieutenant Ripley had respected those orders, the girl wouldn't be in this condition now."

"Ripley had no idea we were still slightly alive…" Hicks objected.

"Maybe not, but it doesn't matter. Rules are made to be followed; otherwise… well, the girl is a good example of a conceivable consequence for disobeying given orders. You of all people should understand that, Corporal."

Hicks had no choice but to surrender to what Decker had said, because he was unfortunately right. As a soldier he knew that ignoring the rules could result in serious problems, and now Newt had to pay the price for Ripley's actions. He looked at her again, saw that her pain seemed to ease a bit as the dropship began to stabilize in its flight, but the damage was already done. He made a mental note to take her straight to medical when they got back aboard the _Hercules_. He noticed that no one had taken any special interest in his argument with Decker. Hicks looked them all over, trying to remember whom each and one of them was. He only knew half of the people since his time with them so many years ago.

Private Dagger was no stranger, but Hicks wished not for the first time that he'd never known the fool. He felt the same way for Colonel Decker and Sgt. Hurst. Then there were the two smartgun operators: Crabbe and Dobermann. They reminded him of Drake and Vasquez; lived only to shoot something, and they looked quite sour for not having anything to aim at this time. They might still have their wish coming true sooner or later.

Private Shawn was new to him. He was a heritage from Vietnam and was the comtech in the team; he was also the youngest member. Hicks really didn't want to know any more than that of the youngster's history. If someone somehow managed to fit in with this lot, you absolutely don't want him as a friend.

Corporal Dixon on the other hand has never had a friend - if you didn't count the ones he 'groomed' and then blew up. He's a professional with all kinds of explosives. There was many times where he could be seen tinkering with explosives in ways that was against regulation, therefore it was a great mystery that he still had all his hands and fingers intact. Dixon claims that the bombs understand what he needs and they never disappoint him. Needless to say: Dixon is a psycho.

Private Cracken whom was afro-American used to be a gambler who in the end got caught cheating in poker. Among the 'Rawhides' though, he was just another sucker with a gun. But in real life Cracken had enlisted into the army to escape his creditors who wanted to collect the debts he owed them. (He probably owed them more money than he could earn for a whole lifetime.) Hicks wondered how many of the guys here had finally discovered that Cracken still practiced his hobby when they were off duty.

Then there was PFC Simpson: another glory-hugger like Dagger. He wanted to be someone that was admired by all the ladies. Therefore he enlisted and went out into space to kill some troublemakers and was anticipating a great reward once he'd finished his ten years. He actually believed that he would have any lady he wanted after that. He would be in for a surprise if he lived that long.

Private Morgan at the driver's seat was a monster-truck race driver in his civilian life; therefore he had a natural talent to operate an APC. He wanted to organize races for a worldwide unification, therefore he needed cash. That was all Hicks had found out about him.

He didn't know that much more of the dropship's operating crew either. The pilot Corporal Riker's ancestors had all been stick-jockeys in the army ever since world war one. Riker simply wanted to keep up the tradition. His co-pilot PFC Samson on the other hand wanted to be a politician. He figured that if he knew firsthand of the life out there in the battle-field, then people would familiarize themselves with him and give Samson their votes. Boy, was he mistaken.

There were six people left behind aboard the _Hercules_; yet only four of them were working directly for the Company. Dr. Roman was a bio-physicist and the medtech boss. She was the only woman aboard the ship. Arnolds was her assistant, and was almost ready to do practice on his own.

Dr. Peters, whom Hicks hadn't seen much of was a surgeon, and was second in charge after Roman. He also had an assistant: Phillips, whom Hicks actually still hadn't seen at all. Phillips was one of the two who didn't work directly under the Company. He was by nature a pessimist, unsocial and had alcoholic problems. Phillips was a nephew to Peters, which was the sole reason he had the job. It was up to Peters to straighten his nephew out after having made a promise to his sister.

The other one who didn't work for the Company was Morse, but then he didn't exactly work for anyone. As far as Hicks knew, the only reason Morse was aboard was because he was paroled from prison in exchange for assisting Colonel Decker with the mission. Technically his part was already done and over, but Decker kept him around for penal-labor. Morse was assigned to scrub bulkheads, applying paint and mop the decks – a perfect job for a prisoner. There were many tasks to be done before the _Hercules_ were shipshape in Colonel Decker's book and it was a good way for Morse to earn his share of food like everybody else.

Fixer was the last crewmember; he was lent out by the Company to rebuild Bishop so that the android could help revive those who were dead. Now as his part was done, he also helped to keep the big ship together by repairing some fused circuitry and similar maintenance tasks, and he did that just to make a living. That was why Hicks respected Fixer the most; he wasn't out for glory, he only did what he could do to contribute since it was hard to gain respect when he was as short grown as he was.

All in all: there were ten blood lusted troopers and their sergeant (all of them presently disappointed and therefore potentially extra dangerous) led by a stone cold colonel who prefers to remain in the field rather than sitting by a desk, with addition of four medtechs, a prisoner and an ordinary mechanic. And finally there was he himself: a 'dead' man, traveling together with a 'dead' little girl and an unlicensed android on their way on a mission that the three of them had been blackmailed to participate in. Hicks were almost convinced that he was dead for real, and now he was on a one way trip down towards hell, for a confrontation with the devil.

* * *

After a bumpy flight through wind and polluted atmosphere, the dropship finally touched down and the APC rolled out from the lowered ramp. The ride on the rocky surface was even more shaky and uncomfortable than what the flight had been as they drove over a rough terrain. But soon Morgan halted the vehicle, way too sudden. Hadn't the people inside been strapped into their seats, they would all be sprawled on the deck now. To Hicks and Newt, it earned them another jolt of pain in their wounds, worse to the child than the adult. The corporal wanted to strangle the harsh driver.

"We're on target, Sir!" Morgan called behind him. "Wow, look at the size of that thing." Hicks couldn't imagine what Morgan meant by that. He had never seen the alien ship where the eggs were stored.

"We're not here for the view, Morgan," Colonel Decker called back as he unstrapped himself. "Everybody fold up their respective hoods, unless you want to be poisoned by radiation. You got ten seconds before I open the door." Everybody quickly worked with their own suits except for Bishop who gave Newt a hand with her hood. Exactly on the tenth second, Decker pulled the door open. The sudden sound of a howling wind that filled the APC's interior was almost deafening.

"Everybody will now take an egg-claw each to carry with you," Decker shouted loudly in order to be heard. "I want a nice clean disembarkment. Move out!"

The wind was much stronger than Hicks remembered from his last visit to the planet, and it seemed to be a lot dirtier now. They were all very near to be picked up and be carried away by it as they stepped out from the APC and onto scorched ground. Bishop took Newt's hand to secure her against the storm, and then they all saw it. Newt involuntarily took a step back. Hicks understood what Morgan had meant; the giant U-shaped ship was enormous and looking disturbingly abnormal with its clean lines. And by the looks of it, it was relatively unharmed. The reports had stated that the complex of Hadley's Hope originally had been built about twenty kilometers away from this high plateau. The blast radius of the nuclear explosion had been about thirty kilometers, equal with forty megatons of power and yet the damn thing was unharmed.

"No signs of any damage from the explosion," Hicks yelled to Bishop. The howling wind almost managed to drown out his voice. "What do you think it's made of?"

"I have no idea," Bishop yelled back. "But I'm hoping to collect a sample of it to study so that we can find out."

"Do you believe it might be resistant to the radiation?"

"I would be surprised if it weren't. I expect it to be quite clean inside."

"So there's definitely a high risk that the 'cargo' is in good shape?"

"The chances are absolute."

"Damn!"

"No more talk," Decker then interrupted. "The entrance should be at the belly between the 'arms'. Move out!"

The troopers marched the rest of the way towards the ship, but it wasn't a very good formation. There was a bit disorder in it as they had to carry twelve claws with them; the spider-like devices weren't designed to be carried comfortably. Newt followed last, holding Bishop's hand. The synthetic noticed that the girl was deathly quiet, which was understandable. The child was very reluctant to go inside the derelict – it was because of this ship her life had been ruined. Bishop assumed she was right now re-employing the tricks she had used to survive back at her home. It was the only defense mechanism she had to rely on, the only way to overcome her fears.

Soon they reached the base of the colossal vessel, and the three oval openings were right where they would be. Colonel Decker didn't halt his men until they all had entered inside into the dark chamber on the other side of the gaps. Some of the men took out their flashlights and turned them on, waving them around to illuminate the darkness. Newt froze. The chamber looked like the inside of a human rib cage, the favorite design of the creatures. She had seen it before and had hoped that she would never see it again.

"It's quiet as a tomb in here," Cracken remarked.

"Got a problem with that?" Shawn scolded the fellow private.

"I sure do," Simpson answered instead of Cracken. "There's nothing to kill in here."

"But shouldn't this be just like a tomb… you know… for real?" Morgan went on. "Those creatures supposedly brought some host's here, right? But I sure don't see any corpses."

"That's because it wasn't here the colonists were brought," Hicks corrected the monster-trucker. "If you read my report, the aliens set up a nest under the atmosphere processing station. Most likely it was too far a distance to drag the poor souls all the way to here. Besides, I suspect they liked the heat under there."

"Well, if there still happen to be any bodies in here, maybe they'll show up as ghosts. Then we can ask them."

"Give me a break, Cracken!" Shawn scolded again. "Don't tell me you believe in ghosts?"

"Stranger things have happened, you know," Cracken said in defense.

"Yeah, for example how an idiot like you ever could be so lucky to be born!"

"Why you little piece of yellow trash…"

"Got a problem with yellow, ya shithead?"

"SHUT UP!" Decker bellowed before Cracken could retaliate. "We're here on a mission, not a picnic. Anyone who wishes to say otherwise, speak up now and then I'll strand him on this worthless hunk of rock forever."

No one spoke.

"Child! Come up here!" Hicks could only stare at Colonel Decker. What did he want with Newt anyway? He didn't have time to ask as Bishop led the girl in front of the line.

"Lead the way," Decker said shortly.

"Where to?" Newt asked confused.

"To the _eggs_ of course! And I will have no objections!"

"But I… I don't know where they are!"

"I'm warning you, you little brat. I'm not anyone to play games with. Lead the way to the eggs or you'll regret that you did not cooperate."

"You don't talk to her in that manner, Colonel!" Hicks suddenly stepped forward with full intent to defend the girl.

"I'll talk to anyone as I please, Corporal! Get back in line!"

"Colonel, Corporal, please." Bishop stepped in between. "There's clearly some misunderstanding going on here."

"No, _Robot_, there's no misunderstanding. There's only refusal from the brat to cooperate."

"But I really don't _know_ where they are…" Newt was close to panic. She didn't like to be in the center of an argument.

"Colonel," Bishop used his usual calm tone. "It is obvious that Newt can't lead you to the eggs because she has never been inside this ship."

"It was her family who found it…"

"We were left outside in the tractor, my brother and I! It was only my parents who went in!" Newt explained with a mix of sorrow and despair. Decker looked sharply at the girl.

Hicks shook his head in disbelief. "Colonel, you may be a full-fledged military-man with all knowledge of military protocols and everything… but you certainly know nothing of _family-relations_! What kind of parents do you think take their kids for sightseeing inside an unknown alien ship?"

With the support from Hicks, Newt allowed her own anger to start flowing "As I said: I was left outside in the tractor together with my brother where we were supposed to stay put while my Mom and Dad went inside by themselves. Later they came out with that horrible thing on my daddy's face. Do you believe my mommy took me inside here afterwards? _Do you_?" Newt trembled both with anger and from the dreadful memory. Decker on the other hand trembled with his own rage.

"I pulled you out from Fiorina because I wanted to save time by not having to search this whole ship," Decker said slowly in a low tone that indicated an underlying threat.

"That's _your_ problem!" Newt shouted with tears of anger streaming down her face under her hood. "I didn't _ask_ to be pulled out!"

"This is _ridiculous_!" Hicks said just as angry as Newt. "You dragged her down here for _that_? Well that's just…"

"HICKS!" Bishop suddenly raised his own voice. "I strongly suggest that you don't push this any further, it won't change anything but for the worse. I would advise that we focus on the mission with what other resources we have instead of wasting time with arguing for what we don't have available."

"The robot's actually got a point for once, Corporal," Decker said with an icy stare. But Hicks wasn't really ready to let the matter go. He shifted his annoyance to Bishop instead.

"You're really a big help, you know that?"

"I am. I only hope that you'll eventually recognize that as well." Hicks had been sarcastic, but Bishop was dead serious and that made the former even more annoyed. Reluctantly swallowing the remark he so much wanted to tell his two antagonists, he dropped the egg-claw he'd carried and instead picked up the upset Newt in his arms to take her away from there. The child hadn't deserved any of this; therefore Hicks silently swore that Decker, and perhaps right now even the android somehow would pay for this insult to her. Bishop picked up the abandoned egg-claw and addressed Decker again:

"I suggest we move further into the middle of the ship. From there we can spread out. By widening the search we can save a little more time rather than…"

"Your suggestions are of no interest to me, _Robot!_" Decker cut him off. "I still think it's a waste of effort to keep you on line. So until I'm proved otherwise, I suggest to you that you keep your suggestions to yourself and stay quiet." If Bishop was offended by Decker's words, he didn't show it. But he did stay quiet.

"Move out!" Decker yelled to his troopers. "We're wasting time here, and I want those eggs found before eighteen hundred hours!"

"That only gives us twenty-five minutes," Corporal Dixon complained. "This ship is huge! We'll never find them before that." He was speaking to his comrades and not to his superiors. But Decker wouldn't let anything slip through unnoticed:

"Sgt. Hurst. Dixon shall have two hours penalty duty for his whining, assign him for boot cleaning." Hurst put the note on his pad with pleasure.

The large party of men walked deeper into the ship and Bishop checked his instruments. He had been right; the alloy of the derelict did not let any radiation through, it was clean within this area. They could even remove their hoods. Although the air outside was radioactive, it was still breathable thanks to the scattered atmosphere processors that had produced air for nearly twenty years since the first settlers arrived on Acheron. Therefore, all of them discarded the hazard protective suits. Since they were vital to their survival outside in the radioactive atmosphere, they did not want to risk any tearing of the fabric. The protective equipment was stashed inside the corridor to be picked up when they were going to leave. All of them were relived to be free of the hot suits; it would make their search much easier to conduct. And they all went deeper inside the derelict...


	9. The eggs

Soon they had reached a second floor after some tough climbing. They moved their light-bars all over the large chamber to survey the surroundings, and they all ended up shining on the center of the platform on which they stood. They had reached the pilot's chair where the fossilized carcass of the massive alien sat forever unmoving. They stared in astonishment at the giant being… it was hard to comprehend that something that big had actually existed. But they quickly forgot about it and went back to business as Colonel Decker once again yelled out his orders:

"This will be our starting-point of our extended search! Spread out and search the whole ship if you have to but find the entrance to where we will find the eggs! Now move!"

As the troopers dispersed, Hicks was the one who took no hurry. He didn't care if Decker would court-martial him for acting sloppy. As it was, how could the colonel even threaten him with that? Hicks were officially a dead man – how could you court-martial a corpse without raising unwanted questions? He was not going to be the one who would make this mission a success, so he made sure to remain in the back. Still carrying Newt in his arms, Hicks instead walked closer towards the pilot's chair, finding the dead alien more interesting. He recalled the story Bishop had told them: from somewhere inside this chamber a beacon had originated and signaled passing ships to stay away, but instead it had attracted the Weyland-Yutani Company to do just the opposite. He remembered the suspicion that the signal had been in the same language of some alien scripts that archaeologists had found on an excavation site, scripts that had prompted the _Prometheus_ expedition to set out to explore this region of space after evidence that extraterrestrials had once visited Earth. Were those extraterrestrials really of the same species as this deceased being? Was this race really involved in the creation of the human kind? Had the religious Morse been down there with them, he might actually think that this dead giant was none other than God, if there were any truth to the theory.

"Where do you think he came from?" Newt whispered so that none of the superior officers would hear, indicating to the carcass.

"I have no idea," Hicks answered just as quietly. "No one has as far as I know ever encountered a being like this before. It's completely fossilized, might've been here for an eternity, maybe longer. Who knows, this ship could be older than the entire human race itself."

"You mean it might have crashed here even before the dinosaurs on Earth were born?"

"An amazing thought, isn't it? This body could very well be the sole and final proof of the existence of a race that today is extinct."

"I know what killed this one," Newt said with a thick throat. "Look at the chest. It was _them_."

Hicks had already seen it. Some rib-bones on the right side of the being's chest were bent outwards, like it exploded from the inside. But the bones of this entity must be at least three times as thick as that of a human's. How strong were those little bastards anyway he wondered?

"What is that device he's sitting under? Is it a cannon?" Hicks realized that Newt was indicating to the entire machine that was the pilot's chair. It was a strange design that was quite massive and elongated, resting on what looked like a rotating base and pointing upwards so that one could suspect that it was a weapon of some kind. But it didn't fit in with the rest of the ship's exterior. If this was indeed a battleship, then why was it armed with only this one weapon? Of course, how could he know? He had not seen the rest of the ship and the whole thing was completely alien, he would probably never know in what manner this race had fought wars.

"Maybe it isn't a cannon." Hicks finally decided. "If this ship was made for exploration, that thing would most likely be some kind of telescope."

"You think those guys might've been scientists?"

"Why not? There is a striving need in every kind of civilization that wants to learn everything there is to know out there in the universe."

"Then they didn't learn the lesson either to stay away from something that's not supposed to be touched!" There was bitterness in the child's tone. "He probably found the monsters somewhere and were about to haul them back to his world for studying when one of them broke loose."

"Either that, or he was on his way to dump them somewhere."

"Hicks. Do you think it was… _these people_… who created the monsters?"

"There's no way we'll ever know that, Newt," Hicks answered. But he couldn't help but to start to wonder about that as well. Could it be like that? If this species really did create mankind on Earth, then why couldn't they have created the aliens? Maybe the creatures were nothing but a hazardous byproduct extracted from some genetic experiment in order to create an ultimate life form? Hicks almost wanted to laugh at the thought, thinking that the bug-like aliens were the leftover trash, the genetic waste. He resisted the urge to do it though as he kept in mind that the threat of the aliens was very serious - it was _not, _and never would be a laughing matter! What was an even worse thought was that the aliens might even _be_ some kind of biological weapon, created for extermination. The prospect of that scared him.

Newt was too young to think in such scientific terms, so those possibilities eluded her innocent mind. Instead she continued to examine the pilot in the only way a child could do. "It looks so strange where he sits. He looks like… like he's somehow grown into the chair."

"Not grown. Molded. I think the creatures did this. It's the same ribbed pattern we've always seen around them. Once they cannibalized him from the digestible stuff, they must've have molded him to the chair with that strange secreted resin they somehow produces."

"What for?"

"I can only think of one reason, although it sounds quite ludicrous. Nostalgia. This is the first host of the crèche, the symbol of their lives. So they redesigned him for a more coziness home-decoration."

"I won't buy that! That would make them… caring."

"There is no animal in existence that does not care for its own kind or its own surroundings, Newt."

"Hicks! What the hell are you standing there for doing nothing?" Hicks didn't have to turn around to recognize the speaker. Sgt. Hurst was playing bully again.

"I am doing something, Sarge. I'm trying to get a comprehension of this species."

"Since when is that your job? You're suppose to look for the eggs, you nitwit! Get on with it unless you want another hour of penalty duty!"

"With all due respect Sarge, I don't see you looking for them either."

"Right, _that's it_. You're on…"

"Colonel. Sergeant. Over here! I believe I have found them!" Every person in the area turned towards the voice that came from somewhere behind the pilot chair's base. Hicks suddenly felt overwhelmed with despair, but not because that the eggs seemed to have been found. It was because the 'culprit' who was now enabling Colonel Decker to complete his mission was none other than Bishop. Whatever instructions Fixer had programmed the synthetic with under orders of the CEO of the Company, it seemed to have taken effect. It was now confirmed: the android had become a puppet under the Company policy and he would aid them in any way he could. Hicks felt he'd just lost an ally.

"There's this shaft here that seems to go very deep down below the ship." Bishop explained to Decker and indicated to a gap in the floor. "It's logical that we will find what you're looking for down there."

"Very well, let's find out if your theory is correct." Decker turned to his men. "I need a volunteer to go down into the shaft!"

Private Shawn began to take a step forward, eager to be the good soldier.

"Don't forget to mention that the one who goes down there will get a face-full of certain death," Hicks quickly said. Private Shawn reversed his step. He may be eager to show his quality, but he wasn't ready to die for it.

"If you're so certain that the volunteer will die, then why don't you go down there yourself?" Decker said annoyed.

"That won't do you any good, Decker." Hicks didn't understand why, but he felt almost cocky. "It doesn't matter who you send down there, it won't give you the eggs. Ripley said that there may be thousands of them down there and you only got two-hundred claws. There's no way anyone of us can work safely down there. Once somebody gets too close to an egg, he's history. The parasite will hatch and attach itself to the suckers face and impregnate a monster that you lack resources to incarcerate. Don't you see, Colonel? This operation is futile."

"Are you finished?" Decker asked coldly.

"Colonel, Hicks is right," Bishop cut in. "You can't send any of your troopers down there, their living presence will immediately rouse the specimens from their dormant state and then it will be impossible to contain them with the claws. You'll only doom your entire party and we won't be any closer to completing the mission."

Hicks felt that he could relax. It was over before it was started, and it seemed that Bishop perhaps still was on his side. There was no way to get the eggs without condemning them all; even Decker had to see that. He has no other choice but to go back to earth and report his failure. Once there, Hicks might be able to persuade the Company to recall his and Newt's deaths.

"_I_ am the one who should go down there," Bishop then said. "As I am completely a mechanoid now, the parasites shouldn't even detect me since I am devoid of flesh and blood. No body-warmth, no smell of meat or anything else that they might sense within an organic being. We don't know what the aliens do to prey on their hosts, but theoretically I should have none of those traits they're attracted to. It's reasonable to think that they would remain dormant within their egg-shells until I can get the claws on them."

Hicks's newfound hope instantly died. Newt said nothing, just observed how the situation developed with somber eyes. Hicks recognized that look: she had had the same expression on her face after Carter Burke had been caught trying to impregnate her and Ripley with two aliens that had been kept in stasis while they were sleeping. Newt already knew that the soldiers would under orders do everything they could to get the eggs - but she, like Hicks, had not wanted to believe that Bishop would help them to do it. It saddened her that she was proven the opposite even though she knew that the synthetic was forced to do it just like she had been forced to come back to the place that haunted her dreams.

The colonel did not acknowledge Bishop's offer with any kind of appreciation at all. The only thing that mattered to Decker was that now that he had his volunteer, he quickly ordered PFC Simpson to assemble a climbing unit over the shaft. The soldier set up a tripod equipped with a winch that would lower the android down into the hole. Even if they had known about it, none of the present personal would even reflect on the fact that history was now repeating itself. The same procedure had been done on the exact spot sixty years earlier when the derelict was visited by three crew-members of the _Nostromo_, and Captain Dallas had set up a similar device of his own to lower his executive officer Kane down the very same shaft. Kane had gone down, and he paid the ultimate price for doing so. When Captain Dallas hauled him back up his face was covered by a parasitic creature, and that incident led to the beginning of a terror of unfathomable properties for the unfortunate ones who fell victim to it, and even worse to the ones who survived it. Once the terror had begun to haunt you, it would never again give you peace.

When PFC Simpson was finished with the contraption, Bishop tied the end of the descent-cable to a concealed loop that was standard for his thermo-armor. The synthetic double-checked the radio attached to the side of his head to make sure it was functioning properly before he slid his legs down the dark hole. Dobermann handed him an egg-claw and a light-bar for him to bring along. Before Bishop went down though, Hicks came up and offered Bishop something else:

"Hicks, you know that I'm a pacifist," he said crisply as he looked with a hint of distaste at the pistol Hicks held out.

"This is no time to go by the rules of some saint, Bishop!" the corporal argued. "You don't know what will happen down there! It never hurts to be precautions."

"I appreciate the concern, but I'll pass anyway. I don't expect that I will have to fire at anything down there. There's no doubt that the aliens will remain dormant and pose no immediate threat."

Hicks grumbled, but put the pistol back in the holster on his thigh. "The expectations I'd rather have is that you will find all specimens down there dead, killed by radiation poisoning."

Bishop smiled. "That's an unlikely scenario. As I expected: the alloy this ship is made of shields the interior from the radiation. It is clean in here. Besides, I don't think the eggs would react to radioactivity anyway."

"One could still hope," was Hicks's sore reply.

"Enough delay!" Colonel Decker almost roared, his obsession of time and efficiency once again making itself reminded. "Get down there before I kick you in!"

"As you command, Colonel," Bishop said and slid off the edge of the shaft, allowing gravity to force him downwards a few centimeters before the wire caught him and stopped his fall, leaving him dangling. Simpson took a firmer grip on the control-box that operated the winch and pressed the 'down'-button. An engine activated and started to rotate the spool on the tripod, allowing the cable to which Bishop was tied to unwound and slowly lower him down the hole where he was quickly swallowed by the blackness.

Had Bishop been human, the darkness and the narrow shaft would most likely cause a feeling of claustrophobia, because the blackness seemed to creep tighter around, threatening to crush him. The temperature was also rising, so the increasing heat didn't do things much better. But Bishop was not human, so he didn't experience those feelings. He wondered though if the previous visitors here had felt such anxiety. What feelings did the executive officer of the _Nostromo_ experience as he descended downwards through this shaft? What did Newt's father feel? Maybe neither of them felt frightened at all – maybe they both felt an exhilarating sense of adventure as they explored the unknown ground. Bishop couldn't guess. No matter how much he tried to understand how humans worked, he would probably never stop to be surprised by their respective actions as no human react the same to different situations. They were all different from one another: some were brave, some were not. So the synthetic decided to assume that there probably was something that was considered desirable that compelled the two previous men to ignore common sense, to cast cautiousness aside and go down to unknown depths alone and unprepared. Most likely they were hoping to find something of great value, and greed had proved to overcome the reasonable senses on many occasions. Too bad that their greed had led them both to their deaths, and an even greater pity were that the same greed had condemned their respective companions as well. Exec Kane's desire to find something valuable had killed the crew of the _Nostromo_, while Newt's father's actions had destroyed the colony of Hadley's Hope.

Granted, Bishop realized that he _was_ a little unfair to the two men now. They were after all victims of orchestrated circumstances that should never have been allowed to be set in motion. The greed of the CEO of the Weyland-Yutani Company exceeded that of the men who were sacrificed to the cause. How one man could have the heart to rate a seven-man crew, a whole terraforming colony, one- no, _two_ marine units and a prison-facility as secondary consideration to a species of biological killing-machines was beyond the synthetic to comprehend. Had Bishop had any choice in the matter, he would refuse to assist in capturing the alien life form and bring it back to the Company.

But he didn't have a choice; he was programmed to comply with his designer, to the man who had sacrificed all those people in order to get his hands on the species. The same man who considered his own life to be of a much greater value than to that of any other person's. And Bishop did what he was programmed to, but he's only doing it in the hopes that he can save the lives of those people who are involved this time. That was Bishop's primary concern, even if it meant capturing the specimens for the CEO and bringing them back. Nothing else mattered.

Bishop's internal sensors suddenly registered a large increase of space which made him realize that he had cleared the shaft. It was very hot in this area. He didn't need to switch on his light-bar, because there was unexpectedly a light down here. He surveyed his whereabouts - and on the bottom of the chamber he saw them - the eggs. Thousands of them as far as his perceptive sensors could determine in the dimly illuminated space. From what he could tell, a large quantity of them _had_ succumbed to the age of time. There were many eggs that were nothing but dry shrunken husks, decomposed to a sad resemblance of a deflated leathery balloon of some sort. But there were also several that were still intact, healthy and untouched by time. And more importantly, the top of the eggs were still sealed. Bishop decided to call in his find on the radio.

"Bishop to the upper level. I have reached my destination, and I got visual confirmation of our objective." Bishop's communicator was set on open comlink on all frequencies so that everybody upstairs could hear him.

"What's their status?" Decker demanded.

"Most of them are destroyed, but I see some that still seem to be in good condition. I might be able to give you a better number as I can get closer to investigate."

Hicks had heard every word and he groaned. In the end he hadn't expected Bishop to find anything else but at least some healthy specimens, but now that the eggs had finally been found, Hicks felt the full force of despair wash over him. The other soldiers had heard the transmission too, but no one seemed to care. None of them understood the magnitude of the catastrophe that some madman back on Earth had begun to set loose by sending them all here.

Simpson was busy with the winch - Decker and Hurst were supervising the operation... the rest of the troopers were left to their own. Half of them just stood hunched against different obstacles of the interior of the derelict smoking narco-sticks and looking bored while the other half simply paced planlessly around, eager to kill something. Newt stood silently leaning against Hicks's thigh, once again just staring at some distant point in space which only she could see, waiting for the inevitable.

Bishop's voice was heard over the radio again. "Simpson. Stop the winch, but don't engage the brake. My feet are on the ground, I'm going to continue on foot and drag the line with me." The soldier complied.

Bishop was walking along a bridge – that was the best description he could conjure up despite the fact that it was designed with the same fleshy rib-pattern the aliens like to produce. But it could also be a gigantic support beam that ran across the bowel of the ship that held segments of the hull together. Whatever its function was, it was clear that it divided two sections of the floor and kept them separated. On one side there were an unorganized pile of ruined eggs, with traces of them having decomposed for over decades; dry, rotten and collapsed. He could even make out some fossilized remains of facehuggers within the cracked shells. On the other side of the 'bridge' though, the eggs were perfectly intact and untouched by time. Bishop wondered if it had something to do with the strange blue field above them – it appeared to be an energy-barrier of some sort, emitted from a strange mound in the middle of the floor. There were more emitters on the wall which seemed to complete the barrier to the edges of it. The energy from the wall-emitters acted like spotlights which was what illuminated the darkness of the large cavern. The field 'rested' just above the bridge, ankle-deep from Bishop's position. He could 'wade' through it, and a strange musical chime sounded as he did this.

What could the purpose of it be? Was it some sort of stasis-field or just something that would help to store the eggs in a suitable environment? There was after all a strange mist floating underneath the thin layer of light. The mist could perhaps be helping the eggs to remain hydrated, maybe even supplying them with special nutrients to keep them in a good condition.

Bishop pondered on this. There was no way the alien creatures could have created the field. It required a power-source and there has been no evidence that they were intelligently advanced with technological knowledge. They were single-minded and one-purposed; their only goal was to procreate and survive. They did have a rudimentary intelligence – smart enough to learn how technological devices worked and deduct whether there was a tactical advancement involved, like when they cut the power to the colony before they made their final attack – but they could never duplicate the technology.

The only answer was that it must have been the race of the dead pilot who had created the energy-barrier. Bishop kneeled and touched it with his hand. The eerie harmonic sound became much more pronounced as the field reacted to his touch. He came up with another theory: the field was meant to mask the presence of biological beings from the eggs inside this cargo-hold. But all those theories added up to one crucial conclusion, and the result was frightening. It meant that the pilot didn't come across the creatures by mistake during his journey: the eggs _were_ the cargo! Worse: if the mist underneath the barrier really was meant to keep the eggs healthy, then this was not a disposal journey! It might be that the pilot's species may not have been so noble; this would indicate that they were a war-like people and the eggs were a biological weapon! Bishop wondered who could have been the target.

Not that it mattered now – the pilot had fallen victim to his own 'bomb'. The synthetic could only guess what might've happened: the ship was on its way somewhere with its terrible cargo in the hold, and then something happened. A meteor shower perhaps? Maybe an attack? Or was it just by chance a simple glitch? Whatever the cause had been, a generator to one of the energy barriers over the other floors must have failed and a parasite within one of the eggs sensed the presence of a biological entity and hatched. It made its way up to the command-console and impregnated the pilot. Knowing that he was doomed, he set his ship to crash on an isolated planet to avoid a spread. The pilot also recorded a beacon telling his people to stay away, because the creature would be impossible to contain should it survive.

Bishop wanted to hear the message the beacon had sent out, the one that had lured the _Nostromo's_ crew to this place. There could be something more in it that the experts back on Earth who deciphered it sixty years ago might have missed. The transmitter aboard the derelict was long since dead, so Bishop doubted he could tap in on that. But he would try to access the Network again when he got back to the _Hercules_, there might still be a saved copy of the transmission hidden somewhere under some restricted files.

"What are you _doing_ down there, _Robot_?" Colonel Decker's angry voice screamed into Bishop's ear through the radio. "Why haven't we heard a report yet of the first egg being ready to be hauled up?!"

"I'm still making an assessment of the situation, Colonel. I don't just want to jump in without evaluating the potential risks first. One wrong step could prove to be disastrous either to the eggs or to your troopers. I am after all on unknown ground here."

"I think there's something else going on here: you're _stalling on purpose!_ You're the one who insisted on taking this assignment, so get _a move on_ before I send someone else down instead! I'm inclined to send the brat!"

"Understood, Colonel," Bishop replied. He did not take the bait to question Decker's threat to send down Newt into the hole. He only hoped Hicks was able to ignore it as well. Tugging on the line to give himself a little more slack and tightening the hold onto the egg-claw he still held in his hand, he jumped off the 'bridge', fell through the thin layer of light and touched down on ground-level where the eggs were. As he was now underneath the barrier, his sensors failed to detect how a dark protuberance above the field hidden in the shadows on the wall began to bulge.

The eggs underneath the field however didn't move. Bishop kept a close eye on them as he walked around the oval-shaped leathery spheres… but none of them opened up. Bishop assumed it was because he wasn't human or even organic in any sense. The parasites within the biological sacks did not find him interesting at all and that all worked to Bishop's favor. As he continued to stroll around them, he noticed two eggs that were unlike the rest.

"There are two empty eggs here," he spoke into his communicator. "But these don't seem to have opened recently. They're most likely those which contained the parasites that attacked executive officer Kane and Newt's father…"

"I don't give a _damn, Robot!_" was Decker's only acknowledgment to Bishop's analysis. The other soldiers had also heard Bishop's descriptions of the empty eggs and like their colonel, they didn't care. But for Newt, Bishop's statement had sent a chill alongside her spine. "He didn't need to _remind_ me!" she muttered to Hicks who gave her his full sympathy.

Quite certain now that the eggs would give no form of reaction to his presence, Bishop choose one at random to place the claw on. He twisted the handle on the spindly construction to spread the legs wider apart and then he positioned it over the ovoid shape like a mammal straddling another body. As he placed the coupling-chamber right over the seam-cross that were the closed 'petals' of the egg, he made sure to position the claw so that the legs covered all four of the flaps. When he was satisfied, he twisted the handles again and the legs clamped down tightly around the sphere. He had to give credit to the designers of the claw: it was fixed completely over the egg and the 'petals' would not be able to open now – the face-hugger was trapped inside and would remain there until the claw was removed.

Bishop unhooked the cable from his armor and attached it to the loop of the egg-claw instead. Making sure that the line was secured tightly, he spoke into his communicator:

"The first egg is ready for transport. Haul it up."

"About time, _Robot!_"

On the level above, Simpson activated the motor and the winch began to reel in cable. Below, Bishop saw how the line snapped taut and then the egg was lifted from the ground – or more like: first it was dragged over the floor to the side of the 'bridge', and there it was pulled roughly upwards across the edge of it. Bishop was momentarily afraid that it would get caught to something and that something would break: the line, the tripod or maybe even the claw. But the egg came free from the edge and for a moment it just dangled beneath the entry-hole like a pendulum before it disappeared up the chimney.

"The load is on its way up, Sir," Simpson said while checking the equipment for irregular movement, but the cable rewound in a steady speed.

"Be ready to receive!" Sgt. Hurst ordered two men. But while the pair of soldiers stepped forward to stand prepared by the hole, Newt ran off in the opposite direction and hid behind the carcass of the alien pilot. There was no way she was going to be near the egg when it arrived. Hicks didn't blame her at all as he watched her go. Hers was a reaction that was more natural than anything else when concerning those creatures. After several minutes the load at the end of the cable came into view and two of the grunts reached down into the hole and pulled the weight up.

"Ugh! _This_ is what our objective is? What a disgusting blob!" The egg that was raised up from the hole was fresh, so it looked more repulsive than the one that had been presented to them during the debriefing back up on the _Hercules_.

"What's that rattle? Is there something moving within it?"

"Hey, this thing's shaking like mad! Yo, Hicks. Is it supposed to do this?

"The beast within has become aware of your presence," the corporal explained in a flat tone but his eyes were filled with an evident look of contempt for the development. "It's trying to get out and make a grab for your faces. Fortunately it seems that the claws work."

"Were you in doubt?" Hurst asked in a cocky tone.

"You'd be wise not to underestimate them, Sergeant."

"Are you trying to insinuate something, Corporal?"

"I'm just giving you the facts, Sarge. None of the previous attempt to contain them proved to be foolproof. I wouldn't be so quick to bet my money on this method just yet! They may still find a way to escape."

Private Dagger gave out a scornful laugh. "Let them. You can go hide alongside the kid if you like, you sissy. I'm not afraid of them."

"Then you are an even bigger fool than I'd ever _expected!_" Hicks threw back at him. "Only a fool doesn't fear those things!"

"Don't try to get smart with me or I'll throw you down that hole!"

"I'm surprised you didn't walk right in it yourself in your state of rush, you stoned freak!"

"How would you like a load of caps in your face, ya _dead_ git?!" Dagger held the end of his gun right under Hick's jaw - he saw that the safety catch was off. The situation was extremely dangerous, but Hicks would not give ground… not to this monkey!

"I've got nothing to fear. In your sad state, you'd even miss if you tried to shoot an elephant in a narrow corridor!" Dagger looked like he was going to take up on Hicks's challenge, but Colonel Decker intervened.

"That's _enough_! No one is shooting anybody here! You're behaving like a bunch of school-children! You're _marines_, so act like them!"

"Shall I mark them for more penalties, Colonel?" Hurst asked.

"As much as I'd like to, we don't have time for it. The eggs are our primary concern now, therefore we will continue with the operation. Send down another claw to the robot."

Speaking of Bishop, Hicks thought that he heard the synthetic's voice over the radio. The argument with Dagger had made him oblivious about it. He thought Bishop sounded a little anxious.

"…going on up there? Hicks, _come in_! This is urgent!"

Although Bishop seemed to be excited about something, Hicks was not in the mood to hear anything more about the eggs. He was also still miffed with the android because he had taken Decker's side, programmed or not. Therefore his voice was all devoid of business when he replied to the call. "What is it, Bishop?"

"_Finally!_ You must exercise extreme caution immediately! Ready your weapons and break out your motion trackers!"

"What's going on?"

"I'm not alone down here!"

"What, the eggs are too tough for you to handle?" Hicks was mocking – that was something he was about to deeply regret.

"This is _not_ a laughing matter, Hicks! It's _them! There are aliens here!_"


	10. The drones

Author's notes: I feel I should point out something here - A reviewer has given me feedback telling me that Hicks didn't actually die in Alien3 since it was a decoy and Hicks is active in the game Aliens: Colonial Marines. The question is, how many ARE actually aware of this except for the die-hard fans that have actually played the game? I myself had never heard of this until I read it on some unofficial sites about Aliens some time ago, so I can't believe it is common knowledge. And since I want this story to reach out to everyone, I only follow the movies and totally ignore everything that has to do with Colonial Marines. I can't incorporate any of that into my stories anyway since I don't know anything about it. Not everybody play the games, you know.

On with the story…

* * *

Hicks didn't believe a word of what Bishop was saying over the radio. He didn't _want_ to believe it! It simply couldn't be true, the aliens were all _dead_! Weren't they?

"Bishop, you're not _serious_, are you?" he asked nervously into the mouthpiece of his communicator. "You're joking, right?"

"I'm looking at two of them right now!" was Bishop's reply.

"B-but it can't _be!_ They were all obliterated when the atmosphere processor blew! How could two of them have _survived?!_" Everybody present had heard the word exchange between Bishop and Hicks and they were now looking curiously at the corporal, wondering what was going on. Hicks didn't meet any of their gazes; instead he was looking over at Newt who was still crouched behind the remains of the extraterrestrial pilot. The child had definitely heard and understood Bishop's warning too, because she was wide-eyed and all color had suddenly drained from her young face. She stood with her mouth agape and she trembled all over.

Bishop had to make it all worse. "Make that three of them, Hicks."

"_Three?!_"

"Logically these survived because they've been here all along, shielded from the blast inside this ship," Bishop explained over the radio. "My best guess is that they are worker drones, probably assigned here by the Queen to tend to the eggs. When the power station went up and destroyed the rest of them, the three who resided here went into hibernation to bide their time. Our presence here must've alerted them."

Bishop couldn't help but to be fascinated as he watched the two beasts unfold their bulks and they stood up straight. The massive bodies were wet and dripping of the fluids from within the protuberances on the wall from where they'd just emerged. Their respective movements and postures were intimidating, malevolent and vigorous. The elongated heads, devoid of visible eyes but with a menacing mouth filled with chrome teeth moved slowly around, surveying the area for intruders. Bishop watched them with his eyes only. His other sensors, those that had survived from his old body were of no use for the moment. They couldn't see past the energy-barrier the synthetic were positioned underneath.

He had been right: the thin layer of light was a stealth-shield which prevented the parasites within the eggs to detect any organic entities on the other side of it. Bishop should therefore be relatively safe where he was: the aliens were above the field and it should work both ways. As long as one of them didn't jump down to the same level as the eggs underneath the field, they would not spot him. He did speak quietly through his communicator though in case the aliens had an acute sense of hearing.

"They just crawled out from two cocoons on the wall and there's a third protuberance that's already empty. Where that occupant is I don't know. It must've slipped away behind my back while I was under the barrier since I missed it."

Hicks were all tensed up. "Did it go up the shaft?"

"Unlikely. You should have seen it by now if it had. Most probably there is another way out of this cargo bay up to the upper levels where you are. Since we don't know the layout of this ship, it could enter your area from anywhere. Why do you think I told you to break out your motion trackers?"

Hicks quickly assembled the equipment despite the fact that his hands were trembling. This was no time to be a fumble-finger he told himself - he had to get his head in the game if they were to survive this. Switching his tracker on, he did a quick sweep around the large chamber. Unfortunately he couldn't get a clear reading, there were too many moving objects around him as the other troopers couldn't hold still - they still didn't understand the danger they were in. He turned to Newt to tell her to hide, but he discovered that she was way ahead of him. The last glimpse he had of her was seeing the small child slip down between the legs of the dead alien pilot and into the cavity by its feet under the console that probably was the helm. She could go into places were grown people would never fit, that was how she had survived back in her colony three years ago when it had been overrun by the aliens.

"Stand still, you idiots!" Hicks addressed the others. "You're disturbing the instruments with you running around like crazed chickens!"

"Who're you calling 'chicken', you sissy?" It was typical of Dagger to misinterpret what was being said. Because of his lack of self-confidence and a high degree of paranoia, he took every word that could be related to a taunt as a potential insult to his own person.

"Listen Dagger, if you really want to prove your worth, now is your chance. Everybody, load your weapons and stand prepared to fire!"

"Do you think you're the one giving orders here?" Sgt. Hurst asked angrily.

"Begging your pardon, Sergeant, but I know more about what is happening here than you do!" Hicks continued to make sweeps with his tracker. Still no other signal showed on the display. "We got monsters on the loose about to close in on us, and if we want to survive we have to shoot on sight. There is no time for hesitation and no time to play by rank!"

"Rank precedes everything, _Corporal_!" Colonel Decker said. "And I repeat: No one is to shoot _anything_!"

"Either we kill it or it _will_ kill us, Colonel!" Hicks persisted.

"You _won't_ kill it! That's an _order_! If a grown specimen really is closing in on us then it is to be incapacitated. It is to be captured alive!"

The other soldiers muttered amongst themselves. "Capture it alive? I actually liked the sissy's idea better. Why not just kill it?"

Obviously Decker heard them. "_I said: incapacitate!_ Anyone who does more extensive damage to the creature will answer to me!"

"You _can't_ incapacitate it, Colonel!" Hicks argued. "Try to understand: It can't be _bargained_ with – it can't be _reasoned_ with – and it absolutely will not _stop_, until you are all _dead!_"

"_You have your orders, Corporal!_"

Hicks were about to tell off the colonel about his orders when he noticed that there was a strange hissing sound in his ear. As he focused on it, he realized that the noise was a low mumbling in the earpiece of his communicator. Bishop was talking to him again, but in a whisper.

"Hicks, _come in!_ What's the commotion up there?"

"I'm here, Bishop. What's happening down there?"

"One of the aliens is looking up the shaft. If he heard your racket…" There was a momentary garble on the line. When it cleared, Bishop had stopped whispering. "Hicks, it's climbing up! _The alien is coming up the shaft towards you!_"

There was no time to think, only time to act. Hicks rushed over to the hole in the floor where PFC Simpson still stood positioned. There was no time to be gentle either; the corporal tackled the soldier out of the way and then he pointed the muzzle of his pulse rifle down the shaft and squeezed the trigger. The muzzle-flashes illuminated the darkness of the shaft and Hicks could momentarily see the silhouette of the advancing behemoth as the armor-piercing bullets slammed into its skull and torso. There was a screechy sound of protest and pain coming from the alien's throat as the high-velocity projectiles perforated its hide, releasing several geysers of acid which sprayed all over the cramped space of the chimney. Fortunately it was still too far down the hole for the acid to reach the level where Hicks stood.

"Seize him!" Decker roared above the gun-fire noise. Dobermann and Cracken immediately stormed to Hicks's position and grabbed him, not at all gently, and pulled him away from the edge of the hole.

"Let go of me!" Hicks protested.

"You've really done it now, Sissy!" Dobermann said with a grin in the corporal's face. His bad breath almost made Hicks gag. Simpson had meanwhile got back up on his feet, and as he saw Hicks standing with his arms locked between the two men, he walked up and planted a fist on the latter's jaw as revenge for being tackled.

"Stand down, trooper," Decker said to Simpson. But it was obvious that there were not going to be any harsher reprimand for him than that. The colonel was going to turn the blind eye to the soldier for striking a fellow marine as he probably thought that Hicks had deserved it. Now Decker stood in front of the corporal and glared angrily at him. Hicks glared back, a trickle of blood ran down from the side of his mouth where Simpson had hit him. At that moment Bishop spoke through the open channels again.

"You got him, Hicks. He fell down from the shaft and does not move." Bishop could strangely enough feel a grim satisfaction as he watched the smoking carcass lying motionless at the other alien's feet. The other creature actually looked surprised that his brother fell back down dead, but that passed quickly. With bared teeth dripping mucous it looked up the dark shaft and snarled. Bishop spoke into his radio again. "Be prepared. I believe the other one is going for an attack of his own." Bishop had stopped whispering. He didn't at all doubt that the aliens had their own sense of hearing, but since this one couldn't see the synthetic crouching below the energy barrier which blocked movements but not sounds it seemed strangely disinterested with him. Or it could be that the alien were more interested in the meat upstairs to bother with some strange noise which he couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from.

The alien's next action confirmed its priorities – the meat above was of much greater importance than of some concern for a seemingly disembodied voice. It bended both its knees and coiled its tail, and then it lounged its massive form upwards to the end of the shaft from where his brother had just fallen from and started to climb up.

"It's on its way, Hicks!"

On the level above, Hicks was frantically trying to wrench free of the hold the two marines was holding him in. "Shoot it! You must shoot it!"

"Not this time," Decker said coldly. Then he turned to his other troopers. "Prepare to capture it."

"With what?" Crabbe asked. "We don't have any nets or anything…"

"You've got training in riot control, don't you?" Sgt. Hurst said in an exasperated tone as if he was talking to some sheep who couldn't understand some simple instructions. "Just subdue it!"

Hicks watched with horror as three of the men: Simpson, Crabbe and Dixon stood poised above the hole in the floor and waited for the approaching alien, hands ready to grab. The fools never did want to understand the magnitude of danger that the xenomorphs was proficient with, but they were about to learn. Yet he couldn't just stand by without trying to verbally convince them one last time: "_Don't do it! Get out of there! Getoutgetoutgetout_…"

The men didn't listen to him, and neither did they have time to react. The alien shot out of the hole like a cannonball and blew all three soldiers away in the process like they were nothing but a set of simple ninepins.

"_Holy mother of_…" Dobermann gasped.

"What the heck _is_ that thing?!" Even Hurst was shaken by the sight of the nightmarish monstrosity that had just emerged. The alien had landed in a crouched position, but now it rose to its full length and it towered over the marines who actually cringed underneath it. For the first time in their careers, they began to understand the meaning of the word fear!

"Don't just stand there with your mouths hanging, you dolts!" Decker's harsh voice echoed in the large area. "You're outnumbering it, so seize it! But don't shoot it!" Their military training kicked in and several of the soldiers charged onto the alien with the butts of their rifles raised in attempt to knock the beast unconscious. The alien saw them all advance, but didn't back away. Instead it pirouetted, and the long barbed tail lashed out like a whip and knocked them all down with one swift stroke. The tip of the tail hit Private Shawn square in his belly and he fell, not getting up again.

Colonel Decker watched the whole action and felt his aggravation rise to the highest level. "Why was I saddled with such incompetent underlings? Must I do everything myself?" If it was his deep sense of duty at play, or if it was simple madness of overconfidence of his own abilities, Hicks couldn't tell. But the colonel jumped the alien himself to wrestle it down, for all the good that did him. The monster easily broke the grip Decker had taken on it and it returned the gesture. Locked in its hold, Decker saw how the maw of the alien opened wide and revealed a tongue whose tip had its own set of teeth.

Decker had studied all the reports that concerned the alien monsters, so he knew what was about to happen. But he absolutely refused to back down on his duty even on the brink of death. He was a soldier and a soldier was never to give in to the enemy. "Surrender!" was all he said to the creature as the tongue shot out.

Decker had his back turned to Hicks where he stood in a clinch with the alien. The corporal's view was therefore obscured but he saw how the creatures' tongue hit the colonel in his chest. The only sound that escaped Decker's lips was a short groan and then he went stiff. The alien threw Decker's still form away, the body sailed through the air and it disappeared over the edge of the pilot's platform and plunged into the darkness. The monster turned back towards the rest of the company and hissed. Everybody scrambled to make a distance from it, including those who'd been hit by the alien's tail and had their breath knocked out of them. Even Dobermann and Cracken backed away now, releasing their hold on Hicks. The only one who didn't run was Dagger, but it had nothing to do with any form of bravery. He simply remained where he was because he was paralyzed, so overwhelmed with fear that he was completely unable to move. The drugs he took helped to deaden his death-guilt, but in this case it wasn't enough. It was never enough. Dagger's kneecaps knocked together as the alien turned towards him. He even wet himself in his pants as the alien approached him.

"Looks like you're in charge now, Sergeant!" Hicks said as he dove to retrieve his dropped pulse rifle now that he was released.

"I… I… I…" Hurst only stammered, not believing how a simple mission like this could suddenly have turned into a disaster. Decker's death had been so sudden so he was caught completely unprepared.

Hicks were prepared though. When some fully grown aliens had come into the equation, the corporal had expected for something like this to happen. He had experienced it all before with Lieutenant Gorman on his first encounter with the xenomorphs. And Hicks was not going to wait for Sgt. Hurst to regain his composure, because like Gorman, the sergeant probably not even would at this time.

The alien stood just in front of Dagger now, its slime lubricated lips curling back to once again reveal the chromed teeth while the tail sneaked up behind him. Dagger whimpered like a terrified child.

"_Take it down!_" Hicks shouted and fired his weapon. The alien staggered away from Dagger as the miniature projectiles penetrated its silicon-based skin. Dagger rolled his pupils up inside the cavities of his skull that contained his eyeballs and he fainted. As the private fell out of the way the rest of the soldiers got themselves a clear shot at the bug-like creature. Whether it was because they had now seen what the alien was capable of, or if it was that its appearance simply repulsed them, it made no difference. Colonel Decker's orders not to shoot it did no longer apply to the marines. They all followed Hicks's lead and fired. The alien shrieked as multiple hits threw it backwards. Acidic blood spilled from its wounds and the floor started to melt where the yellow-colored fluid dropped. The monster retreated – it jumped off the platform down to the next level below where it earlier had thrown the body of Colonel Decker.

"Don't let it escape!" Hicks rushed towards the precipice of the pilot's platform and let loose a new burst downwards. But the alien was already gone. "_Blast it!_ It won't be long until it has healed and then it will come at us again!" He consulted his motion tracker again. He was faced with the same problem as before with the soldiers running around.

"Everybody stay clear of the edge! Move to the center and form a circle! We mustn't let the creature get the upper hand or it will pick us off one by one!" Unfortunately the soldiers weren't all that eager to comply anymore. Although they were faced with an imminent threat, they weren't ready to listen to Hicks. He was still an outsider in their opinion.

Now that the alien was gone, Sgt. Hurst regained enough self-assurance to assume command: "You have no authority here, Corporal. And now that we got a moment's break, we can reassess the situation. Bottom line: Colonel Decker's last order stands! We will not kill this specimen; it has to be captured." Every standing soldier began to voice a protest.

Hicks looked at Hurst with pity. "You still don't understand what you're dealing with here."

"We were simply unprepared. But now it is down there, wounded. It's an easy target now to apprehend."

"Hey, count me out!" Dobermann said.

"No way am I going near that thing!" Morgan agreed.

"Those are your orders, people!" Hurst countered.

"Did you hear nothing of what I said?" Hicks cut in. "It won't stay wounded for long, it has an incredible regeneration system! Soon it will come for us again! And look at the holes in the floor where it dripped its blood: it's a miracle that none of it got splattered on us!"

"We got cuffs and steel-wires in the APC…"

"Didn't you see what it _did_ to the colonel? It threw him away like a rag-doll! And I've seen evidence of them having broken through barriers of solid steel! Cuffs and steel-wires are like sewing-thread to them!"

"Well then, what do you suggest?" Hurst asked exasperated.

"Kill it. Plain and simple." Hicks watched his motion tracker again.

"That's _not_ an option!"

"It's your _only_ option!" The motion tracker was not very cooperative. There was a strange signal among all the others that tracked the moving forms of pacing soldiers, but he couldn't make out what it was or even _where_ it was. "Damn, what's the _matter_ with this thing?" He shook the device in frustration to try to clear out the mess in the display.

"Hicks! _Hicks!_"

Hicks looked back behind him. "Newt, get back down! Stay where you are!" But Newt looked wild and pointed anxiously upwards with her finger.

"It's right there! _It's right there! Above you!_"

Both the corporal and the sergeant looked up. Hicks jumped out of the way just in time – Hurst screamed as he was grabbed by a six-fingered hand and lifted off his feet. Hicks looked up at the abomination that had grabbed the sergeant. It was hanging down by its long and powerful tail from the dark ceiling; he couldn't see what the tail was latched on to. But he could make out that this was not the same alien they had just fired upon. This one was darker in color, more massive with more pronounced features, and it looked a lot more menacing.

Hicks realized that this was the _third_ alien, the one who had eluded Bishop down in the cargo bay of the derelict. Bishop had theorized that the aliens who had hibernated inside the ship for three years were worker drones, assigned to tend to the eggs. If that was the case, than this was a different brand: and sure enough, this one looked more like the type of creatures Hicks had faced three years earlier. This drone was a _warrior! _And that meant quite likely twice as dangerous as the other two.

Somehow it had sneaked in there from the cargo bay via a different route and stayed hidden in the shadows until it found an opening to strike. And now Sgt. Hurst was in its clutches and quickly carried away. The sergeant flailed with both arms and legs, but he couldn't get loose from the alien's iron grip. All he managed to lose were his shades which fell to the floor and shattered. Hurst's screams ended abruptly as if he had somehow been silenced and Hicks lost all track of both human and monster as they disappeared in the shadows of the ceiling. It had all happened very fast. There had been no time to fire his weapon, and now he had no way of knowing if Hurst were alive or dead.

"As I said before: move to the center and form a circle!" Hicks called out to the remaining troopers. This time they were more inclined to comply after witnessing both of their commanding officers fall victim to the beasts. They fell in and stood with their backs to the dead pilot. Hicks continued issuing orders: "Those with weapons equipped with searchlights covers the ceiling, the rest of us keep tabs on the edge of the platform! Use your motion trackers and don't hesitate to shoot if you see something moving! But at least try to make sure first that it isn't a friendly. And somebody wake up Dagger!"

Crabbe took his canteen and poured the content in it over Dagger's face who sputtered as he was jerked awake. Hicks half expected Dagger to start ranting about how he actually had not fainted, but instead had pretended to pass out as a tactical action to give his comrades a clear shot at the alien. Fortunately Dagger remained silenced as he saw the concentrated expressions on his comrades' faces and he started to glance nervously around, understanding that they were not out of the woods just yet.

The motion trackers gave out a signal almost instantly as soon as Cracken and Simpson activated them. Their anxiety made almost all of them point their barrels upwards towards the source and they would've fired if Hicks hadn't stopped them as he consulted his own tracker. "Hold your fire! There's something peculiar about this signal. It's moving, but doesn't change location. The monsters do not act that way. Either they're travel or they remain completely still…"

"So maybe it's tap-dancing on the spot, it's still a grand opportunity to put some caps in it. You did say: 'don't hesitate', didn't you?" Morgan pointed out.

"I also said to make sure that it isn't a friendly before you fire!" Hicks persisted. "Let's get some lights on that spot, let's see what's there."

Some soldiers muttered something incomprehensible but shone their searchlights towards the source of the movement the trackers were registering. Something was hanging down from the ceiling, swinging from side to side. It looked like a sack of some kind, created by what Hicks recognized as the same translucent resinous membrane the aliens usually secreted to create their cocoons. And this _was_ a cocoon: Sgt. Hurst was inside it, like a doll roughly stuffed into Santa Claus' sack – only this was a sack from hell.

"Sarge!" one of the men gasped. "W-why do that to him if he's dead?"

Hicks squinted with his eyes, trying to see more clearly. "I don't think he's dead. He's not moving, but I think I can make out his eyes fluttering. He's only paralyzed. The alien stung him and left him hanging." An idea crossed Hicks's mind. "Did anyone check on Private Shawn? Is he dead?"

Morgan went over to his fallen brother-in-arms whom had suffered the attack of the first alien. The APC-driver was surprised. "No, he's still alive! There's a purple discoloration on his stomach under his ripped jacket, but no blood. Does that mean that he was stung too?"

"Most likely," Hicks confirmed shortly while scanning the area. It was an uncomfortable feeling that the alien kept itself out of sight.

"So they don't kill us, then?"

"Oh, don't start feeling secure now. Stunning the victims is the first stage for infestation. They can't use dead people as hosts, which are the only reason why Hurst and Shawn are still alive."

"You're saying that Sarge and Shawn are infested?"

"Didn't you read my report? That's what the eggs are for. Fortunately there are no eggs up here, so they can't…" Hicks stopped in mid-sentence as he realized that he had forgotten something very important. His statement weren't entirely true.

"Damn it! _The egg!_" There _was_ one egg on their floor, the one they had hauled up from the lower levels before the threat of the aliens had come to occupy their attention. Hicks rushed over to the area of the pilot's platform were the egg was stashed and he produced a light-bar to get a better view of the ghastly ovoid.

The warrior alien was there. It was trying to loosen the claw that was clamped around the quivering shape of an egg. Would the warrior be given enough time, it would probably just rip the entire trapping device apart and the larvae within would be released.

The warrior alien looked up as it realized that it had been discovered and it let out an antagonizing hissing screech.

Hicks' determination did not falter. "No, you don't!" he called and fired his rifle. It came out in a short burst that was just slightly enough to drive the alien back away from the egg, but then the weapon failed. Hicks cursed. How could he have been so stupid that he neglected to check the ammunition counter readout on the side of the rifle? It had reached zero and he had no more clip to replace it with! He attempted to fire a round of the grenade launcher to drive the warrior back even further, and if it blew up in the process, all the better. But no matter how much he pumped the slide, no grenades came out.

_Damn you, Decker!_ Since this was just a retrieval mission, there was no need to load the pulse rifle with grenades. That was how Colonel Decker had reasoned beyond his decision to let the troopers only carry one ammo-clip each. Probably he hadn't wanted to risk a grenade going off by 'mistake' among the captured eggs, he'd known all about Hicks's resentment about their objective. Decker's precautions could now mean the death of them all.

The warrior alien regained its equilibrium after having staggered from the hits of the heavy shells. It was wounded, but not mortally so. Now enraged, it leaped at Hicks. The corporal quickly drew his pistol he'd brought as extra precaution and fired its smaller rounds into the giant husk of exoskeleton. He hardly managed to slow it down; the small bullets only seemed to enrage it even further. It still advanced against him and it would not stop. The alien was almost over him, about to tear him to pieces.


	11. Fight for survival

Simpson came up beside Hicks and fired his own pulse rifle at the warrior alien. Again it was driven back, but this time the creature retreated away into the darkness. None of the acidic blood had spilled on them.

Simpson looked at Hicks: "Just because I just saved your ass doesn't change anything between us. I realize that you saved my life when you pushed me away from the hole so I just returned the favor. That doesn't mean that I like you."

"I don't expect you to. But we're even and I'm fine with that. Just lend me that rifle!" Hicks snatched the rifle from Simpson and completely perforated the alien egg with bullets, destroying it and the parasite within it.

"Why'd you do that for?" Simpson asked as the rifle was returned to him.

"To make sure that 'Ugly' doesn't double back and release the pest within it behind our backs. Besides, it felt damn good."

Suddenly more weapons fire rang in the vast space of the derelict's 'bridge' and Hicks turned back to the rest of the men. Fear gripped him as he saw how the soldiers fired at the giant pilot's chair. "What are you doing?!" he called over the noise.

"We saw it! It was crawling on top of the big cannon or whatever it is!" Cracken called back.

"Don't shoot! Newt is hiding under there!"

"That's her tough luck!"

"_Anyone who harms her in any way will get the same treatment from me!_" Hicks roared - unfortunately to deaf ears. The marines only had their attention to the strange machine that was the alien ship's helm control.

"It's still there! Behind the big barrel!" one other shouted.

"Get it! Shoot it!" was the reply and another barrage was released. Hicks could see that it was all wasted as the alien was shielded behind the elongated bulk of the telescope or whatever the machine were. And Hicks was suddenly hit with the strange sensation of thinking that it was the alien's plan! Could it be that the creature simply was drawing their fire to empty the guns? Hicks knew that the monsters were capable of learning, but to that extent? Deliberate or not, the outcome would be in the alien's favor. If the soldiers continued their firing, the weapons would quickly be depleted and then they would be defenseless. And sure enough…

"Crap! My weapon's dry!" Corporal Dixon noticed.

"I'm out too!" cried Morgan.

"You're all going to end up dry if you don't cease fire now!" Hicks called out. "We must conserve what we got left if we are to survive!"

Reluctantly they all ceased their attack – all but one. Dagger was still mindlessly trying to shoot through the obstacle to hit the alien.

"Aaaaaaahh! You bastard! Die! Die!" he screamed.

"Dagger! Cease fire!" Hicks called out frustrated, but to no avail. For a moment he was reminded of Corporal Hudson from his old team. The comtech had been a cocky man who saw the military life as a game and who had enjoyed every mission they went on. But then he'd come face to face with the alien monsters and he had lost it; all confidence he'd had was snuffed out like a candle and replaced with mortal fear. Like Hudson, Dagger had also become hysterical and completely out of control as terror had overwhelmed him completely. His weapon was the only shield he had and he was not prepared to let it go. In the end he had no choice though as the ammo-clip pumped the last shell into the barrel and the weapon went dead. "No-no-no-nooo!" he whined as he kept squeezing the trigger as if trying to force his rifle to spit out at least one more round. All went quiet in the chamber except for the rapid intake of breaths from each of the personnel present. The alien emerged from behind the barrel where it had taken shelter – it looked like it grinned maliciously at them. And now Hicks saw that this wasn't even the warrior – it was the worker drone that had shot out from the shaft. It was healed and back to torment them.

"It planned this. Made us waste our ammo," Hicks stated as he watched the drone.

"How could it?" Dobermann asked nervously. "It's just a dumb animal, isn't it?"

"They're more intelligent than we like to think they are! What's our remaining ammo?" A quick check revealed that the two smartguns still held a small amount of ammunition due to their larger forms, but almost all of the pulse rifles were dry. Only Simpson and Cracken had a few shots left in theirs. Maybe Hicks shouldn't have been so quick about shooting the egg.

It was down to a game of wits. The drone still watched them from atop of the barrel while the humans were watching it, each waiting for the other to make the next move.

Hicks carefully stepped in beside Cracken and addressed him with a low voice. "Don't make any sudden moves or you might alert it. Do you think you can discreetly track that bug-head through your rifle's external targeting screen?"

"I can. Why?"

"If the rest of us can divert his gaze away from you, then maybe you can put a round through its head."

"I'm game." Cracken whispered as he carefully flipped out a screen from the side of his rifle. He slowly directed his muzzle to the center of the alien's mass which filled out the whole display. "Care to make a wager whether I can do this or not?" the Afro-American asked the corporal.

"Never gamble with a dead man. They got nothing to lose."

"Too true," Cracken admitted. "I'm almost ready. Keep it busy."

Hicks moved slowly away from Cracken. He didn't like the idea of having to rely on a man who under any other circumstances would not cooperate with him, but right now they were in the same boat. Besides, Hicks had a backup plan in mind. There was one gun that everybody had forgotten about: Private Shawn's pulse rifle. Since the young Vietnamese had been rendered unconscious early in the battle, his weapon had not been used. It still had a full clip. If he could just get close enough to it to capture it…

As Hicks had counted on, the alien followed him with his gaze, or with whatever method it used as a visual sense. It was discouraging to try to attract the attention of a creature that had no visible eyes. The featureless face followed him though and the drooling jaws clenched in anticipation.

Cracken was sweating, but other than that he kept the façade of his poker face up to give the impression that nothing was going on. Not that the alien could read a facial expression - that was an unlikely scenario. He carefully adjusted his aim from his hip, staring intensively at the targeting screen – he now had the center of the alien's forehead filling his display, right in the bulls-eye of the target grid. "The house got the winning hand now, you ugly sucker." he whispered to himself.

Dagger was losing his patience together with the last of his own wits. He had overheard the plan Hicks had made and he wanted nothing else but to see the monster dead. So why wasn't Cracken pulling the trigger?

"What are you waiting for? Shoot it!"

"Quiet! You're breaking my concentration." Cracken snapped at him with a low voice.

"You got it in your sights! Take it out!"

"Shut up."

"It's going to get away if you wait much longer!"

"Shut up!"

"Shoot it!"

"_Shut up!_"

"_Shoot it!_"

"_Shut your trap, damn you!_" Cracken now yelled. It made the alien turn its head back towards them, attracted by the commotion.

"_It's seeing us! Shoot! Shoot!_" Panicked now, Dagger dove for the trigger that Cracken was about to squeeze. The pulse rifle went off and the projectile went way off target. The alien hissed.

"_You idiot! You ruined my shot!_" Cracken bellowed. Dagger's impatience caused calamity to begin once again as the alien drone leaped from the giant barrel and landed on top of Private Morgan and knocked him heavily to the floor. Morgan's teammates didn't stick around to help him. Since most of their weapons were empty, they all fled out of the way and managed to run over the ones who still had ammo left in the process, knocking them to the floor of the platform. Morgan screamed in panic as the alien hunched over the soldier, holding him in an iron-grip and prevented his attempt to escape. The monster's lips curled back and the teeth began to part. Hicks witnessed how his plan crumbled because of Dagger's cowardice and in a last desperate move he threw himself towards the abandoned rifle that lay beside Private Shawn's unconscious body.

But the drone saw what Hicks was up to. It grabbed the harness of Morgan's armor, lifted him up and then hurled the screaming man in Hicks' direction. The impact of the heavy body slamming into his blew all air out of Hicks' lungs, and in the process he was knocked away from the rifle. Both men lay on the floor completely stunned and in a world of hurt, while the alien moved in for the kill.

"Hey! Over here, you bugger!" It was Corporal Dixon who decided to take action of his own. It appeared that he too had taken some extra arsenal with him besides those Colonel Decker had allowed them to bring. In his hand Dixon held a strange package which Hicks realized was an explosive device. Dixon was fascinated with bombs – he could fashion many variants that was far from approved by any regulations, and his favorite designs were the bombs he could make inconspicuous and hide on his armor in plain sight. That's how he'd managed to bring explosives with him without the superior officers knowing about it. With all his might, Dixon threw the package he'd previously concealed on his person at the alien with the words: "Catch."

It was almost comical, even close to hilarious. The alien _did_ catch the package in one hand and now it examined the object curiously.

"Oh, shit," Hicks muttered. "_Fire in the hole!_" he shouted and wriggled around to protect the front of his body.

The alien drone quickly lost interest in the object it had caught and was about to throw it away when it detonated. The explosion caught it square in the face, its torso was blown open and the arm that held the bomb was vaporized. Bits and pieces of the alien flew in every direction, some of it splattered on the back of Morgan's armor which began to sizzle as the acid ate away the material. There were now two types of cries sounding in the cavernous area: one was of a cheerful sound as Dixon let out a victory whoop for destroying the drone – the other was Morgan who screamed in agony as he felt the skin on his back beginning to burn and he thrashed around in panic on the floor. Hicks could understand him; he had been through the same thing back in Hadley's Hope three years earlier when he'd blown the last alien away and the acid blood had gotten on his armor.

Just as Ripley had aided him three years ago, Hicks now tore at Morgan's quick-release straps to help him discard the combat plates before the acid began to dissolve too much of the other's skin. They got it off, but Morgan was now writhing on the floor in pain.

"Medic!" Hicks shouted. "C'mon, who's the acting field medic in this unit?" Everybody looked around amongst themselves. Hicks couldn't believe it: were there just a bunch of trigger-happy morons in the Rawhides? All were killers, but none were medically trained? "Do none of you know anything about first-aid?!"

Simpson took a small step forward. "Well, I had a crash-course in it when I was temporarily stationed at…"

"Then bring the med-kit and get over here!"

"But I don't know how to treat acid-burns!"

"Just stabilize him and we'll get up to the doctors on the _Hercules_! They can treat him. Stanch the bleeding and give him some injections for the pain. That's what I did when I was burned with it."

"Then why don't you do this if you know what to do?"

"Have you forgotten that there's still one more creature around here? Someone has to deal with it!"

Meanwhile Dixon was overjoyed. He ran around the platform swinging his arms over his head while he continued to whoop. "Did you see that, guys? I got it! I got it!"

Hicks ignored the over-excited maniac who was fascinated with bombs. Instead he saw to get hold on Private Shawn's pulse rifle that still lay forgotten on the floor. He picked it up and checked it for malfunctions – there was none, it was in good condition. He felt a wave of confidence and relief wash over him - it was good to be armed again.

Dixon stood beside the still smoking carcass of the alien and taunted it. It was easy to be cocky in front of it now when it was dead.

"Don't get too close to it. The acid could still burn through your shoes." Hicks informed him while he consulted his motion tracker again, looking for the last alien.

"Hah! Your monsters aren't so tough after all, Hicks."

Hicks looked at Dixon with an embittered expression. "You blasted _fool!_ The only reason we're still alive is because they wants us for hosts! They could have killed all of us easily if they wanted to."

"You're just sour because we survived and your team didn't."

Hicks had a hard time resisting the urge to strike Dixon on the jaw. "We were fifteen people coming here last time and we were up against over a hundred of those things! Only three of that party plus one survivor made it out, but not without severe injuries! And afterwards they managed to kill us anyway!"

"Yeah, your team always was a little bit deluded of their capabilities, weren't they?" The rest of the soldiers joined in laughter at Dixon's taunting of Sgt. Apone's team. Hicks gritted his teeth and turned his back on him. Dixon continued his ranting.

"Just a bunch of pansies that couldn't hold their own against a couple of bugs. Maybe they should have thought of bringing a fly-swatter with them. Not like us. We beat them. We're invincible." Dixon swung his arms outwards in his ecstasy. "_We're the Rawhides! We're invinc…_ URRGH!"

Dixon's time of glory was short-lived, as the rest of his life was from the moment when he'd become euphoric in it. Hicks spun around and saw Dixon's chest explode in red as a barbed spiked tail plunged straight through his body and he was raised in the air, limbs flailing. The last alien, the warrior, emerged from the shadows in the depths of the lower level below the pilot's platform, looking more ferocious than ever. Impaled on the black obscenity's tail, Dixon twitched, let out a final breath and died, arms going limb.

All thoughts thinking that Sgt. Apone's team had been too incompetent to handle the creatures were instantly banished from every remaining standing member of the Rawhides' minds as the presence of the corporeal nightmare again filled them with primal fear. It was so monstrous, so unreal and unnatural – the only course of action that dominated their analytic senses was to send the thing to an immediate death.

The few who still had ammunition left aimed the muzzles of their weapons at the black nightmare and fired, but the alien proved once again that it was smarter than what anyone would like to believe. It grabbed the carcass of its dead sibling and shoved it up in front of itself, using it as a shield – the still dripping acid from the body didn't affect the living beast the least. The rounds slammed into the 'shield' – many of them went straight through, but the dead body cushioned the projectiles and degraded the velocity of them considerably. Also the bullets were immersed in acid as they passed through which softened them up, so they did little or no damage to the living alien's chitinous hide when they finally hit the exoskeleton that was the intended target.

The only thing the soldiers could do was to continue to hack away the tissue of the makeshift shield with armor-piercing bullets until so little remained that they could hit the living alien straight on – but they had nowhere near enough ammunition to do that. Cracken and Simpson's last rounds were quickly spent and shortly thereafter Crabbe and Dobermann's smartguns went out. The only pulse-rifle that still had ammo left in it now was the one in Hicks' possession. Everything else was gone. Hicks weren't sure though that his amount of ammunition would be enough to save them, he had just spent a third of his clip. And the alien was formidable and a tough creature to kill: if Hicks didn't hit something vital with what ammo he had left, they'd all be doomed. But there may be one chance…

The alien still had not dislodged Dixon's corpse from its tail. It displayed its kill as a trophy in front of the soldiers; one might think it was because the alien did it to discourage them. Hicks thought about a possibility when it came to Dixon's character: why would he settle with just one concealed bomb on his person? For a psycho who loved explosives, surely he would have more of them hidden somewhere?

The warrior hurled the remains of dead alien drone at the soldiers who scattered out of the way so they wouldn't get hit by corrosive meat. The warrior hissed and crouched down for a leap. And Hicks fired – not at the alien directly, but at Dixon's body. An unethical move, but during the circumstances a necessary one if his theory was correct. The warrior actually looked confused of this action and that worked in Hicks' favor. While the aliens obviously were tactically smart, they clearly lacked imagination. How could it even comprehend the idea that Corporal Dixon might have been a walking arsenal?

Dixon's body convulsed as multiple hits from the rifle sent ripples through decomposing nerves and the corpse danced in death rows where it hung suspended in the air pinned on the alien's tail. But it wasn't all the bullets hit. As Hicks had hoped, his projectiles perforated several concealed packages, and sparks from where bullets were deflected from Dixon's armor ignited something flammable. It was Hicks' adrenaline-heightened reflexes that warned him of the danger and he ran away. He shouted a warning before he dived:

"_Hit the deck!_"

Both alien and corpse disappeared in a large fireball as every concealed chemical went up and the concussion from the explosion threw all the soldiers off their feet. Superheated air rushed over them and singed the outer layer of composite fibers, exposed cloth and skin. The blast was so loud that everybody's ears were ringing long after the explosion had dispersed. Hicks raised his head from the floor and looked towards the smoking edge of the pilot's platform. There was no sign of the warrior alien or Dixon's body. Since they had been in the center of the blast, they had been completely vaporized. Hicks felt a grim satisfaction, despite the fact that he had committed a crime of disrespect for the deceased when he blew up Dixon's body. But he felt that it was worth it. The three aliens were dead! It was over.

Hicks rolled over to his back – he felt exhaustion sweep over his body and he was wheezing. His replaced lung was still unable to deliver the necessary oxygen his blood required. Yet he almost felt like laughing as he exhaled in relief and spoke into the mouthpiece of his communicator: "Bishop? Do you read?"

"I hear you, Hicks. What is happening? It sounds like a war up there."

"We beat them, Bishop. Decker and Dixon bought it, Hurst, Morgan and Shawn is down, but those bugs are dead."

"I can't say if congratulations are in order, considering the nature of our mission. The Company won't be happy when they hear about this."

"Screw the Company, Bishop!"

"Are you all right?"

"Exhausted and battered, but alive."

"What about the girl?"

Hicks instantly got up on his feet. How could he have forgotten about her? She must be terrified in her hiding-place having heard all the shooting, the screams and explosions. Hicks rushed over to the pilot's chair and shined his light inside the cavity where the pilot's feet were. Hicks were reminded of the first time he saw her back in Hadley's Hope. Newt sat pinned against the wall making herself as small as she possibly could. She cowered away from the bright light, trembling all over. But thank heavens Hicks thought, she appeared to be unharmed. He extended his hand towards her.

"It's okay, honey. It's over, we beat them," he told her soothingly. Newt wasn't as withdrawn now as she had been when they first met. She accepted Hicks' outstretched hand and allowed herself to be pulled out of her hiding. When she was clear from the pilot's helm, she threw her arms around the adult's neck and sobbed quietly. It had been quite traumatic, having to face her worst nightmare and hearing the screams of death yet again.

"I have her, Bishop," Hicks reported into his communicator. "She's quite shaken, but she's all right." Newt mumbled something Hicks didn't quite catch, so he asked her to repeat her words. What she said diminished some of Hicks' assurance of her safety. "My chest hurts."

Since Newt was so close to the mouthpiece of Hicks's radio, Bishop had heard what she said. "Her wounds are probably strained because of stress-related factors. We should get her back to the ship."

Hicks were not going to argue against that. "Not just her, we should get everybody back up. We're all quite banged up after this, and some are in a critical condition. Let's get you out of that hole and then we'll all leave. There's nothing left for us here now."

"_No one is going anywhere!_"

Hicks turned on his heels – he could not believe either his ears or eyes. Colonel Decker had just climbed back upon the pilot's platform. The military officer clutched a hand tightly to the chest-area of his leather-uniform which was dark-stained, but he was quite alive.

"Colonel?! You… you _survived?!_" Hicks gasped in disbelief.

"Don't sound so disappointed, Corporal," Decker snapped at him.

"But it's impossible! I saw you take in the chest, and those creatures' teeth can punch through almost anything!"

"Good thing that 'almost' doesn't apply to everything then!" Decker stated in a dismissive tone, despite the fact that he was gripping his torn leather-uniform over the spot where the alien had bitten him as if to stop the bleeding. "Surely you didn't think I was stupid enough to go on a mission without wearing a Kevlar-west?"

"It's a relief to see you alive, Sir!" Simpson said as he approached Decker with the med-kit. "Let me check that wound…"

The colonel showed Simpson roughly away with a snarl. "Keep your hands off! I don't need any help!" Ignoring the shocked expressions from his troopers, Decker made a general view over the situation. He was most displeased. "You killed them! I told you I wanted them _alive!_"

"It was either them or us, Colonel," Hicks said.

"I'm holding _you_ responsible for this, Corporal!"

"With all due respect, _Colonel_…!" Hicks replied, not trying to hide his resentment. "In case you didn't notice, Dixon is dead and three others are in critical condition! You yourself barely escaped alive! And that is lucky; it could've gone much worse! Now, surely I don't need to tell you of your responsibility of your men? Shawn, Morgan and Hurst are in immediate need of medical attention - and so are you, although you won't admit it! _Sir!_"

"It is the mission that comes first within this unit!" Decker persisted. "It is the men's duty to die to accomplish it if required!"

Hicks were not swayed. "However, their deaths were not anticipated for this assignment. As it looks right now, the timetable of this mission will be seriously delayed if you lose too many hands that are required to accomplish it!"

That hit home. As the colonel was so obsessed with time, Hicks knew that Decker would have to let his men be treated for their injuries first if he wanted the collecting of the alien specimens to go as efficient as he wanted. All hands were required to get as many eggs as possible up to the _Hercules_ with each trip with the dropship, but with four casualties, one of them a fatality, the colonel was faced with a totally new schedule that was more extensive and that was unacceptable as it would be a waste of resources. Decker grimaced – he had no choice but to postpone the first load.

"I'm still holding you responsible for this, Corporal!" the colonel said. Hicks held back a remark, although he felt quite annoyed with having to carry the blame. It would be a later concern though – Decker was now watching up the ceiling towards where the cocoon containing the immobilized sergeant Hurst still hung.

"Simpson. Take some men and fetch some stretchers and a tarpaulin from the APC. We will have to shoot Hurst down from there. And you, Dagger…" The colonel looked with distaste at the soiled pants the sorry excuse of a soldier was wearing. "Go clean yourself up!" Dagger turned red in his face from embarrassment and humiliation. Fortunately for him, no one was laughing at him, since everybody was still shaken up after the encounter with the aliens.


	12. The burden of a survivor

Being as hardcore of a soldier as he was, Colonel Decker would preferably have had his soldiers coming back to the _Hercules_ with the disciplinary manner he always invoked into his troopers – but the lot that returned from the surface of LV-426 was in no shape to maintain those military protocols. The prisoner Morse met them as they disembarked, or rather stumbled off the dropship that had returned to the hangar bay – the looks of their condition spoke volumes.

"You look like you've been through several rounds with the devil," the prisoner said with a face that looked more curious than concerned.

"That's not far from the truth," Hicks replied being supported by Bishop as he stepped down to the deck of the landing-bay. He had been able to stand upright back inside the derelict while his adrenaline-level were still at its peak, but now that it had dropped down to low levels, Hicks felt the severe ache of the injuries he had sustained.

"What happened down there?" Morse asked as he studied the other troopers who slid their feet across the floor as they staggered towards the exit of the hangar. He wasn't the only one who raised the question.

"But how could you get beat up like this?" the pilot of the dropship asked as he and his co-pilot Samson carried a stretcher with the unconscious Sgt. Hurst laying on it. "You had weapons and your foes were supposed to be unarmed. You say you fought and almost lost to a bunch of _animals?_"

"Listen, Riker, _you weren't there,_ _okay?_" Simpson responded angrily. "You and Samson sat in your nice safe cockpit while we had our asses chipped by those stinking bugs!"

Morse's facial expression turned even more curious. "You encountered one of those creatures?"

"Three of them," Hicks told him. Deep down within him he wondered why he shared this information with the convicted felon. "We got one K.I.A. and three critical W.I.A. – four if you include the colonel's wounds."

"Three of them against all of you and all they accomplished was that? Those must've been a weaker brand. It took just one to kill all of us back at Fiorina."

"Well, we had guns." Now it was Hicks that looked at Morse curiously. "You almost sound disappointed that they failed?"

Morse smiled. "You have to see it from my perspective: I'm a prisoner. Surely it would be to my benefit if my guards were incapacitated, don't you think?"

Hicks decided not to pursue the matter further. The prisoner was a strange man who actually gave him the creeps. He wondered yet again what Morse's crimes were. Instead he turned to Bishop: "Let's get to medical. I want Newt to have a complete check-up."

"Speaking of which…" Bishop said. "Where is she?"

* * *

Despite the pain in her chest, Newt felt that what she really needed right now was some time left alone. She knew that Hicks were concerned for her well-being of course, but the thought of those doctors, those strangers touching and groping her made her feel uncomfortable. Besides they were so cold and dispassionate – so _military_ \- quite unlike the doctors from her colony. And the female doctor had even without hesitation attempted to put her to death before. The girl therefore wanted absolutely nothing to do with them - so as soon as the dropship had returned to the hangar of the _Hercules_, she had sneaked out through the opening hatches while the soldiers had been busy attending to the wounded. Once outside, she had made her way into the only space where she expected to find solitude as well as some safety: in the air ducts.

The ducts were cramped, but that didn't bother Newt at all. She actually preferred it that way. Going into places were others couldn't fit had been how she had survived the alien attack back at her colony and now these tight ventilation shafts were adequate to give her some privacy once again. The encounter with the aliens down in the derelict had really shaken her up and right now she didn't feel safe anywhere even though they had left the xenomorphic organisms behind down on the planet. Next trip down though they would be brought up as Colonel Decker had proclaimed that they would do, and when that happened the last shred of safety aboard the _Hercules_ would be gone. (Not that there had been much of that aboard in the first place.) At least her part in this was now done – the soldiers did not need her down on the planet anymore, so they would not take her with them next time. They probably didn't want her down there anyway.

After some crawling, Newt arrived to a large cavity of the ventilation system. It appeared to be a cross-section, where several shafts interlinked. It reminded her of her colony's ventilation system's pressure-relief bubbles; just like the one where she had made her hideout after every adult had disappeared. It was perfect. This was a spot where she could try to relax and still make an escape in any direction she'd like should someone or something try to come after her from any of the connecting tunnels. At least that was the plan in her young mind. As she sat down settled against the wall to allow herself a calm moment, a feeling of doziness immediately overpowered her. If it was because she was more tired than she had realized or if it was an effect of the residual painkiller drugs that still hadn't gone out of her systems, she didn't know. Either way she fell asleep although that hadn't been her intention, and when she came to, she'd found that she wasn't alone in her hideout any more.

"Oh! Excuse me. I didn't know you were there," the small man named Fixer said. He had just emerged from one of the side-shafts, carrying a toolbox in his hand. Newt only stared blankly at him, more disturbed with that her senses had been so dulled that she hadn't detected him sooner rather than her being compromised inside the pressure-relief bubble.

"Not to trouble you, but this is not a good place for you to be," Fixer continued. "Should the colonel find out that you're crawling around here, he will probably become quite angry. I'm only saying that because I don't want you to get in any trouble."

"What worse can he do to me than with all the horrors I've already been through?" Newt asked him with a somewhat detached voice. Her question took Fixer by surprise: it was a statement that was expected to come from a grown-up – not a child. He had never heard her speak before, so he had no idea that the girl had stopped being a traditional child since a long time ago.

"Well… just thought that I should give you a warning about it," the small man said collecting himself. "The colonel is quite strict with not allowing unauthorized personal occupying sealed areas without supervision from someone of his regular staff. So granted, I shouldn't be here either. So I won't tell if you don't. Agreed?"

Newt didn't answer – she just gave a very small nod with her head.

"I'll be out of your hair soon," Fixer continued as he crawled towards the opposite wall of the area. "I'm just going to do a little rerouting behind one of the panels inside this junction." He began to unlatch a panel.

"Rerouting of what?" Newt asked, watching what the other was doing.

"There's too much electricity going through these cables. I need to divert some of the power-feed to relieve the main circuitry of the pressure."

Newt's next words took Fixer even more by surprise than her first ones had. "In other words: you want to avoid a burn-out. Did any of the power-converters overload?"

"You _know_ about such things?" The little man was impressed. To meet such a young child who had knowledge of power-cables and converters was unexpected – especially out here in space. Newt simply shrugged.

"Happened all the time back home – in my colony I mean. Many of the supporting generators were wind-powered, but no one who hasn't lived there knows how strong the winds of Acheron are. The dynamos were often running way beyond their capabilities and became overheated. And the electricity generated burned out many of the cables. That's when they called in my daddy. He was the one fixing those when they broke down." Newt leaned her head against the wall, smiling at the memory. "There were several stations creating air spread all over the planet. My dad brought us with him in a tractor when he had to go out and repair one of them because it took time to get to each one and then back. My brother wasn't that interested, but I loved to help my daddy repair the stations. That's how I learned the stuff. Of course, I only used the spanner – but I caught on quite well on what he was doing. I have a very good memory."

Fixer smiled. "Then you were planning on following his footsteps, I take it?"

There was no joy in her voice as she replied. "Daddy would have liked that. But now…" Newt felt her eyes beginning to sting.

"I'm sorry," Fixer said now concerned. "I should have remembered that your father was…" He didn't finish the sentence.

"Do you know what the worst part is?" she asked. The other shook his head. "No matter how much I try, I can't remember his face. It's… hidden." She didn't elaborate, because she was already shivering. She didn't expect Fixer to understand that every time she tried to remember her father, no matter what situation she had attempted to picture him in, the face-raping parasite was always present wrapped tightly around his head.

"When we get back home, maybe you can ask the Company for his personal file. There's probably a photo of him in that." Fixer was meaning well, but Newt snorted.

"I want nothing to do with them!" she said determinately. "It was one of them that sent him out to that ship so that the monsters could kill him!" Her tone changed to one of bitterness. "Daddy never trusted the Company. He didn't like them – and neither do I!"

"I can understand your resentment… but why didn't your dad like them?"

"He saw them as… bad people. Those running the Company, I mean. Dad always said that the Company wanted total domination and that they would step over other people to get it. In fact, he came here because he wanted to have control over his life. But the Company owned the colony too…" Newt didn't know why she spoke so candidly with a man she hardly knew, but she trusted her instincts – she felt that this man would not abuse her confidence. "He wanted so much to be free of them… he often spoke of how he would one day be lucky and make a fortune and start a new life for us. He was so excited when we found the ship… he thought we were going to be rich… but instead…" Newt couldn't continue. Instead of finding a fortune, Newt's father had found death.

"I believe in a way I understand him," Fixer told her. "I am not overly fond of them either, but please don't tell anyone I said that. It is hard to feel you've got control of your life when you're some kind of a target. I mean: look at me. I'm quite short-grown, and it's quite hard to gain respect when you're like this."

"Do they tease you?" the girl asked.

"Not openly. But I can hear the whispers behind my back, and I can see some resentment in their faces whenever they speak to me."

"I know the feeling. When we played monster-maze in the air-ducts back home, the other kids claimed that I was cheating at the game just because I could go to places where they couldn't fit. They couldn't take that I just happened to be smarter than they were – I was the ace, and they couldn't handle that."

"Oh, so that's how you found your way in here."

"It's the only place where I feel that I can be alone."

"Then I'll just quickly fix these cables so that you'll get your privacy." Fixer leaned inside the open panel.

"That's okay. I don't mind you." Newt crawled over to sit beside him to see what he was doing; the curiosity got the better of her. "Maybe I can hold the light for you so that you can see what you're doing?"

"That would be much appreciated," he said cheerfully. "Well, since you helped your father to repair things like this, then you do know what first rule of dealing with electricity is?"

"Sure. Always cut the power before touching the cables," she said as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"You _are_ really smart for being so young. That's something everyone who has not got the proper knowledge always forgets." There was a fuse-box within the service-compartment just above the main cables. Fixer leaned in and flipped the main switch, closing all circuits. Then he fished out his polysizable screwdriver and started to loosen the screws to some of the connectors – at least those he could immediately reach.

"Hey, do you mind holding that bundle of wires up so that I can get to the inner screws?" Fixer asked the girl. She didn't answer in words, but she was happy to oblige. As the work progressed, she assisted the mechanic in any way she could, and she even took over the screwdriver on some occasions. An unexpected feeling that Newt had not expected to feel again came to her: it was like she was back at her home and helping to repair the equipment. It was a good feeling, and one that she desperately didn't want to lose again.

* * *

The need for a damaged body to heal was no excuse to deviate from discipline – not in Colonel Decker's mind. Hicks were very well aware of this from his first service-period with the 'Rawhides', so he'd expected nothing less as he and Dagger were told to begin cleaning of all the toilets on deck C that evening, using only toothbrushes. Hicks and Dagger had after all been put on penalty duty for their fight in the mess hall the day before and the colonel always made sure that every duty-rooster were carried out to the letter. It didn't matter how hurt you were from a battle. If a soldier were able to stand on his own feet, then the penalty were to be carried out as planned. So the evening for Hicks and Dagger was spent on cleaning the lavatories, but fortunately all went smoothly and without further similar incidents that had led them to the penalty in the first place. Dagger was quite shaken up from the battle with the aliens, so he did his job to preoccupy himself from reliving the experience in his mind and without saying a word for protest – something that was otherwise quite unusual for his character, but still a welcoming change. That meant Hicks could finish his job quickly enough and finally be released, and then he was free to try to locate Newt. He found her as she put back a cover to a ventilation duct in one of the corridors.

"So that's where you disappeared to. I should have known."

Newt jumped back at the sound of the voice. Although it was only Hicks, the girl looked somewhat embarrassed that she'd been caught exiting the ships ventilation system, but that was because she knew that she really wasn't allowed to be in there. Fixer wouldn't say anything, and she was fairly certain that Hicks wouldn't give her away to Colonel Decker either – but she would've been more comfortable with if her new hideout had remained a secret between her and the midget mechanic only.

"You know, you really shouldn't be in there." Hicks told her gently. "If Decker found out he'd instantly lock you up in the brig."

"I… I needed someplace where I could be alone for a while."

Hicks let the matter drop. Instead he brought up his primary concern. "Are you all right? After what happened down there?"

"I'm f-fine." she said, resisting the urge to touch her aching chest. That pain didn't seem to want to subside and it worried her. But she was hesitant to tell the adult that. Her words were therefore just a much of a lie to herself as it was to the corporal. "I'm all right."

"I want to have one of the doctors to check you out." Hicks said extending his hand towards her, inviting her to take it. But she refused.

"I said _I'm fine!_" That had come out harsher than Newt had intended, but the meaning behind it was clear. She had already decided that she was not going to see any of those doctors, therefore she ran off as soon as the words had left her mouth. Hicks shouted her name, pleading to her to come back, but she would not listen.

* * *

The girl continued to keep her distance to both Hicks and Bishop even on the next day. She spent most of her time with Fixer now, assisting him with all the repairs that were needed throughout the ship. The "Rawhides" were all mean marines - they lived to fight and kill, therefore maintenance were not a skill anyone of them carried. The _Hercules_ was actually in a worse shape than what military protocols demanded, so Fixer had taken it upon himself to fix many of the damaged systems, not only to occupy himself, but to prove his continued usefulness during the mission. And as long as the mechanic did that, Colonel Decker could tolerate the civilian's presence. The bonus was that if the midget was willing to take the child under his wing, then so much the better. That meant that the child was kept out of his and the rest of the army's way, although he did not officially approve of Newt being around many of the ship's key-systems. Decker made sure to tell Fixer that he would be held directly responsible if the girl messed something up.

Meanwhile the mission had finally begun to get ahead according to the original plan. Next morning the dropship went back down to the surface of LV-426 with a new batch of egg-claws, and now that there were no more aliens guarding the cargo-hold of the derelict, collecting the specimens proceeded without trouble this time. And since Sgt. Hurst and Privates Shawn and Morgan were still in sick-bay, it left room within the dropship to bring up something extra.

It was not a deliberate incident. Newt and Fixer just happened to be in the corridor replacing a fuse for a malfunctioning door when the soldiers brought in their first load on radio-controlled trolleys. Newt were just finishing screwing the bolts of a cover to the circuit-board back in place using Fixer's motor-driven poly-sizable screwdriver when an alien egg came into her peripheral view, and she instinctively jumped back in fear.

"It is okay, Newt. The beast is sealed inside by the claw and cannot get out," Hicks assured her, but he didn't sound overly convinced himself. Sure enough, the egg-claw was in place locking the petal-shaped opening down tightly, but the parasites within them were not so willingly subdued. All of the dozen eggs that the soldiers had brought up with them shook and rattled as the face-huggers struggled to get out so they could do their single purpose in life. It even sounded like the small creatures screamed in rage. Fortunately it looked like they struggled to no avail, but didn't make Newt feel any less apprehension in any way. The monsters were now on the ship and the last of the safety-feeling she had been able to grasp onto were completely gone.

"Is that what we came here to pick up?" Fixer asked sounding both astonished and a little frightened, possibly from both the reaction Newt displayed and the gruesome appearance of the eggs. The fact that the eggs moved so much with such aggressive tremors fueled the repulsive feeling that crept along his spine with a chilling sensation even more.

"That's it," Hicks confirmed shortly with a dejected tone that spoke volumes of defeat.

"All right, what are you all waiting for?" Colonel Decker's harsh commanding tone cut in over the muffled shrieking sounds that came from the sealed eggs. "I want these specimens moved to the assigned storage compartment and secured there. The room will afterwards be sealed until the next load and _no one_ will be allowed near that area! It will be off-limits! Is that understood?"

"Like anyone would even want to be near the place," Hicks muttered under his breath.

"The last specimen is an exception," Bishop said from the back of the line. "It'll go to the science lab. I'll take it there myself."

"Don't remind me," Hicks muttered again, more angrily this time.

"Whatever," every other soldier said dismissively as they rolled away the eggs down the corridor. Newt pressed herself hard against the wall as the eggs rolled past her, trying to get as much of a distance from them as she could, but then she got even more upset as she saw the load on the last trolley that Bishop had referred to.

"Why did you bring _that_ up here?" The last specimen wasn't an egg – it was the remains of the first drone Hicks had killed in the derelict.

"Research," Bishop explained to her shortly as if he was surprised that the child even asked the question. "I've only been able to study the smaller creatures from the eggs so far, never a fully grown variant."

From Newt's perspective, it was not a justifiable reason. "Why are you helping them?" Her tone was filled with accusation and her eyes brimmed from a feeling of betrayal. "You know what those monsters did to my home! To Ripley's crew and to your team you came here with!"

Bishop's tone was as calm and patient as it always were when he spoke. He understood Newt's dismay and he was not at all offended by her accusations of his actions. "I know exactly what they did, and I truly regret that you had to experience that horror. But I wish you could believe me when I'm telling you that it is in fact _you_ I'm trying to help. You, the people aboard this ship, and the rest of the galaxy. The more I can learn from the creatures, the more I expect we can find the means to handle them so that they won't destroy another colony again."

"Those are not your words!" Newt shot back. "It's the words of the _Company!_ Of the one who built you!" It was a good thing that Bishop was a synthetic; anybody else would have felt instantly insulted by the girl's outburst. But he did look wounded.

"I won't ask you to trust me, because right now you're too hurt to be able to and I perfectly understand that. But I assure you: one day you will understand why I'm doing this." Bishop then touched a switch on the control-box he was holding and the trolley with the dead alien rolled down a side-corridor to the lab-section of the ship with the android walking beside it, leaving Hicks, Newt and Fixer behind.

"The most disturbing thing is that he actually managed to talk Decker into taking that carcass with him," Hicks said.

"Why did _you_ let him do it?" Newt asked. The corporal were perplexed. Was the child accusing _him_ now?

"I did speak against it, but Colonel Decker overruled me."

"You mean you can't do _anything?_"

"My hands are tied, kid. All I can do is to obey orders, no matter how much I disagree with them. That's the way of the army."

"Well, I _hate_ the army! I _hate_ Decker! I _hate_ the monsters! I _hate_ the Company and I _hate Bishop!_ I even hate _Ripley!_"

"Newt…" Hicks attempted to lay a soothing hand on the girl's shoulder but she instantly slapped it away.

"_Get off! I hate_ _you too!_" And then she ran away, leaving Hicks standing dumbfounded and a bit upset as well. What did he do to deserve that? He's been trying to help her all along. He looked over at Fixer, looking for an explanation from him to Newt's behavior. The little man had none to give though, all he could do was to give Hicks an assurance that he would continue to keep an eye on her as soon as she had calmed down.


	13. Breakdown

Later in the science-lab, Bishop made preparations for a dissection of the alien specimen he'd brought up from the planet below. Any other scientist would probably tremble with anticipation and curiosity for a procedure like this - no one had been given the chance to study a full-grown alien before. It was an opportunity that many biologists would be prepared to surrender one of their limbs for. Dr. Roman would most likely have a major fit if she found out about what Bishop was about to do and she was not invited to participate. The dead alien lay on a stone-table that was intended for examinations of biological substances – the surface was easy to clean and sterilize afterwards, and besides: Bishop hoped that the stone would be able to withstand the acidic blood should it still be active. It was interesting stuff this acid the alien had for blood. It was highly corrosive when it was fresh, but it loses its caustic potential after some time. When the team had gotten back to the derelict that morning and Bishop had gotten back down into the cargo hold, he'd discovered that the acidic properties had been neutralized after the couple of hours that had gone by. Therefore he deemed it safe to bring the carcass back to the ship without risking the blood to spill inside the dropship and ruin it, but it was still wise to proceed carefully.

Before he began, he connected a small documentation recorder directly into his cranial circuits via one of his receptacles. It wasn't the first time he'd used it. He had taken the time to record his whole research from his memories during the past night, from what he had learned about the facehuggers he'd examined back in Hadley's hope three years earlier to what he had witnessed about the alien Queen who had followed them back up to the _Sulaco_. So close it had been that all of it had been lost. After he'd been so badly damaged in the crash-landing on Fiorina 16, all of his memories had begun to disappear one by one. Fortunately Ripley had connected him to the flight-recorder of the EEV which detected the loss of information in his mind, and immediately made a back-up copy of everything before it was permanently erased. Bishop didn't want to risk that to happen again, so he'd begun doing a back-up of the back-up. He hadn't stopped there – since he had access to Ripley's recorded memories from the hard-drives of her cryotube, he made sure to include that information as well. It was already starting to become a whole journal around the aliens.

Being a synthetic had its advantages: he was a computer talking to a computer within the recorder, so he could input all his discoveries directly into it without having to speak into the microphone. That left his hands free to do his work. It was time to begin. From a table beside him he produced a laser-cutter and brought it to the semi-transparent dome of the alien's elongated skull. Carefully he cut into the silicon-based flesh, hoping that the laser would cauterize the wound as he moved it downwards, blocking the seeping blood and keep it inside the veins.

The door to the lab suddenly opened and somebody entered. Thanks to Bishop's synthetic reflexes and motorized skills, his hands remained steady and did not sway from the cutting procedure.

"I need to talk to you, Bishop," Hicks said.

"Please give me a moment here, Hicks," Bishop said patiently. "I'm in a delicate procedure."

"And I'm in a desperate mood! Had I had any choice I wouldn't have come to you about it as I am quite annoyed with you, but I don't have that luxury!"

"What's the problem?" Bishop asked without averting his eyes from the operating table.

"Newt!" Hicks said, exasperated. "Do you have any idea how upset she is right now?"

"I can imagine. And I deeply regret it. Unfortunately it was all expected to happen sooner or later as the mission proceeded."

"You knew that this might happen?"

"It was unavoidable. I had hoped that her current state of mind would stabilize before the first batch of eggs was brought up so that she wouldn't lose it, but the unexpected encounter with the aliens down there distraught her even more than I had first anticipated." As Bishop spoke, he finished cutting the skin of the carcass with the laser. He took a pair of tongs which he used to widen the opening, revealing the see-through bone underneath. The creature's brain was visible underneath.

"She's distraught all right," Hicks said. "So much that she's started to hate you. And for some reason: even me."

"She doesn't hate you, Hicks."

"You didn't hear her in the corridor, Bishop. You didn't hear her hateful tone towards everything."

"Don't let it get to you, Hicks," Bishop said as he started to drill a hole in the skull with the laser. "She didn't mean anything she said, it was simply her fear talking. And it is not uncommon for children to say something that they don't mean when they're angry with their parents."

"But I'm not her parent."

"With Ripley gone, you're the closest thing she has to one."

"You're joking?"

"I'm capable of telling jokes, but I don't find any reason to do so in this case, much less a necessity for it."

"But she just said that she hates me! She won't talk to me anymore!"

"That's because she's terrified of the thought of losing you the same way she lost her real parents and Ripley. She hopes that by distancing herself from you it might diminish that fear somewhat. She will find that it won't and then she will come back. You're just going to have to be patient."

"You sound awfully sure about that?" Hicks questioned.

"Isn't that the reason why you came to me to talk about it?" The drilling was complete. There was now a small hole in the dome of the skull that went all the way down to the brain. Bishop put the laser-cutter away. "I've had access to Newt's psychological profile thanks to the hard-drive of her cryotube – I know how she thinks." The android now picked up a long but thin rod that was connected to a small generator which he switched on. But he continued his conversation with Hicks during the whole time. "You like her, don't you?"

"I…" Hicks hesitated for a short moment. "Yes. Very much."

"And she knows that - or at least she suspects it. And she in turn likes you very much in the only way she knows by her age: as a father-figure. And every child expects a father to be able to solve anything."

It all became clear to Hicks now. "But I can't solve this alien-problem. I've disappointed her."

"What you did was that you happened to confirm her worst fear. If you can't do anything about the threat from the aliens, then who can?" Bishop inserted the thin rod into the brain of the creature through the drill-hole. Suddenly the body on the table began to twitch.

"It's still alive!" Hicks shouted in surprise.

"No," Bishop said just as calm as always. "It's just reflexes. I'm pressing on some nerves within it. There might be more of this coming as I'm getting ahead with my experiments."

"Are you sure this is safe?"

"With them, what can be certain?" Bishop said, this time with a smile though. Then he charged the generator with thirty amps.

"What are you doing anyway?" Hicks asked.

"I've inserted a stem line into what I believe is its locus coeruleus. I'm hoping to find the right frequency of electrical stimuli to control the central nervous system. Just like what the doctors did with you when you were revived."

"You're not trying to revive this thing, are you?"

"Of course not. What I want to do is to charge the neural pathways to simulate neural activity so that I can take an EEG as well as an EKG. That way I can determine how much of the brain the creatures are actually using. You humans only use a small portion of your brain, so I just want to make a comparison. I want to attempt it before the cellular necrosis proceeds too far."

Bishop turned up the power another ten so that the stem line was charged with forty amps. The carcass began to twitch even more violently.

"I don't like this!" Hicks protested. "What if you happen to activate its regenerative system and it starts to heal?"

"That would be interesting, wouldn't it? However I think it's safe to assume that it isn't a zombie."

"I won't risk it! Turn it off!"

"I know what I'm doing, Hicks. This is just…" Suddenly the carcass half sat up and shrieked – its jaw opening up and the inner mouth shot out and snapped into thin air.

"_It's alive!_" Hicks were almost certain of it this time and he was prepared to run out of the lab. But then the rod inserted into the skull fell away, and the alien slammed back down on the table and remained motionless. Bishop picked up the rod from the floor and held it up.

"Hmm. It appears the acidic blood within the brain was not entirely neutralized," He said as he examined the melted and smoking remains of the tip.

"Is it dead?" Hicks asked. "I mean, it got up and screamed…"

"That was a primitive reaction that's common among most creatures. A wounded and dying animal's most instinctive reaction would be to lash out and kill anything that comes to close. It's a primordial instinct in a last attempt to save its own life. It was a strong automatic reaction which resides deep within the core of its nervous system. Nothing more."

"Never the less, I don't want you to attempt that again!"

"Not under these conditions anyway." Hicks thought that it sounded like Bishop just avoided a promise to not experiment with a stem line again. He decided that it was pointless to argue about it though. Bishop was after all acting under the influence of his programming that made him obedient to the Company. He would do their bidding no matter what Hicks spoke against. He was just glad that Newt wasn't in there with them as it happened. She might've been terrified out of her wits. Hicks suddenly remembered…

"We were talking about Newt. You're certain she avoiding me because she is afraid to lose me to the aliens and she can't bear the thought?"

"Positive."

"So what's the deal with Fixer? She spends most of her time with him now."

"That's because he's the only civilian aboard besides herself, not counting Morse. Right now all the military personal is associated with bringing the alien specimens aboard the ship, something she is most uncomfortable with to put it mildly."

"Is that also part of the reason she's distancing herself from me?"

"It is. She likes you, but you're part of an enemy group to her even though it is involuntarily on your side. That's why she's so angry and confused and that's why she can only relate to Fixer right now. He's a mechanic just as her father was, and that is a concept that she is familiar with. To her he could very well be a fellow colonist."

"So what can I do?" Hicks asked, facing a new defeat.

"For the moment you can't do anything. You must let her come into terms with the situation for herself. But be ready to accept her when she does. It might not be long before she urgently needs you for some reason."

"With a new batch of eggs coming up tonight, that moment might come sooner than I might expect," Hicks concluded.

* * *

Morning or evening didn't make much difference aboard a ship. The lights in the corridors was constant, and the sun seemed to remain in the same spot of space as you looked out the viewport. Only the passing time of a chronometer controlled the routines of Earth's 24-hour cycle aboard the vessel of the _Hercules_, but there was no romance in it. Newt wasn't even used to it. The rotation of her planet designated LV-426 were different to that of Earth – as it had only a two hour-rotation, days were short and always so gloomy from dawn to dusk - but it still gave an impression of time passing by. Aboard the _Hercules _though, one moment seemed to be the same as the one before and there was nothing to look forward to in the next one. Newt hated it. Not only because she was restless, but also because there was nothing that could help to preoccupy her from the pain that continued to torture her chest. It had become much worse since the morning and she even began to feel quite ill.

She could no longer deny it to herself. She knew she was sick and she was scared because of that, but she felt she had no one to turn to for help. Hicks and Bishop were not around and besides she had made the mistake of alienating them. Fixer was her friend but he was still part of Colonel Decker's crew, so she felt apprehension of confiding her illness with him. All she could do was to continue to help Fixer with his work, hoping that the pain would eventually begin to go away – but it was as constant as time itself aboard this ship. She and Fixer had just been to one of the storage-compartments to pick up spare-parts. Newt was pushing the trolley, but as she moved it along the corridor back to Fixer's workshop, she felt her legs getting wobbly. She stumbled slightly before she managed to regain her balance, but the damage was done.

"Are you okay, Newt?" Fixer asked her.

"…Fine," she answered weakly.

"Newt, you don't look okay. You're very pale. I think we better get you to sickbay."

"No!" she protested. "I'm okay. I'm just… tired. All I need to do is to lie down and sleep for a while. Can't we just get back to your workshop?"

"Are you sure?" the little man asked, not entirely convinced.

"Yes," she said giving him a smile that was just as faked as her words of being all right, and that made up Fixer's mind. He was going to get her to the sickbay. Careful not to alert her of his actions, he led her down one of the side-corridors that would lead them to the new destination. Newt followed along hunched over the handle of the trolley, not really watching where they were headed. So far, so good. It all went well, until Newt discovered a familiar panel on the wall of the corridor they just gotten in to.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"We're on our way back to the workshop…" Fixer began to reply, trying to sound natural.

"This is the corridor we worked in this morning! How'd we get here?"

"We must've taken a wrong turn…"

"What's the time? Are they on their way back?" Fixer understood what she meant and he could've kicked himself for not thinking of that. This corridor was the route the soldiers transported the alien specimens towards the storage compartment that was meant for them. If the dropship had returned and the crew was on their way with their load…

They were. It was too late. The first soldiers came into view with their terrible cargo on the radio-controlled trolleys, heading in their direction. Fixer's attempt to lead the girl to sickbay now resulted her having to face her nightmare yet again. And to Fixer's dismay, the two leading soldiers were the two he liked the least of the 'Rawhides' - it was Crabbe: the taunting moron and Dagger: the drugged fool.

Crabbe, in accordance with his character, instantly threw them a rude comment. "Well, look who's here to greet us. The twin midgets."

"Yeah. Tiny and Tiny. He he hee," Dagger slurred, joining in on the taunting. "Quite the perfect couple, aren't they? Same size and with matching uniforms." It appeared that Dagger had gotten over his breakdown from the day before, and it was no wonder. Fixer could see it in the soldier's eyes: he was high on his drugs again.

"So when are you two going to get hitched, then?" Crabbe remarked with a facial expression that was devoid of any kind of respect.

"C'mon, leave her out of it!" Fixer snapped back. "She hasn't done anything to you to deserve that!"

"She's the 'sissy's' little pet," Crabbe sneered. "That's enough for me." Newt cringed and averted her eyes, feeling hurt. She knew she wasn't liked much among this bunch, but to that extent?

"Look, why don't you just get your load going to the storage-room like you're supposed to and let us just be on our way?" Fixer said with some force in his voice.

"Don't try to tell us what to do, Tiny! Or I might just squash the two of you." Crabbe went to the door and touched the controls. It began to roll aside with a pneumatic 'pschht', but suddenly it just stopped and didn't move.

"What the hell is this?" Crabbe roared. "I thought you fixed this door, Tiny?"

"W-we did!" Fixer stammered, not understanding what the problem could be. Were there too much power-feed to the circuit-board that has made the fuse to burn out again?

"Well, obviously you didn't do much of a good job with it, did you?" Crabbe's posture was threatening. "Now you get this door open right now or I'll make you eat one of these eggs!"

Fixer went over to the door and tried the controls. Nothing happened. There was no air being sucked out of the vacuum-containers that would pull the door open. There was no time to open the panel in the wall and replace the fuse again – he would have to pump out the air manually. Fixer opened a small access-hatch underneath the control-panel to get into the small compartment that housed the manual switch. It looked like the T-shaped handle of a bicycle-pump. He twisted a knob that would direct the air-flow out, and then he began to pull and thrust the handle. The door began do open, but slowly.

"Hurry it up, Tiny. We don't have all day!" Crabbe urged impatiently.

"I'm doing this as fast as it can go!" Fixer snapped at him.

"Don't try to get smart with me, Tiny!"

Even Newt felt a bit of impatience – not just because of the two evil soldiers, but also because she was forced to be in the vicinity of the alien eggs. They were sealed with the claws, but that didn't make her feel any more secure around them. She kept her eyes closely on the grotesque ovoid shapes, being ready to run if just one of those petals came loose underneath the spindly legs that were supposed to hold them in place. Just like with the first batch from the morning, these eggs rattled and shook as the parasites within struggled to get out since they felt the presence of hosts suitable for cocooning. Newt shivered.

Dagger caught her trembling, and began taunting her about it. "Hehe. Don't tell me you're afraid of those things?" Newt looked at him with a displeased expression, but didn't answer him. And it turned out she didn't have to - somebody else did it for her.

"Of course she's afraid of them. And that makes her the wise one." The prisoner Morse came up to them from the corridor behind the little girl. "You should be afraid of them too, Dagger."

"Why should I?" Dagger instantly challenged back in anger. In accordance with _his_ character, Dagger would not allow anyone to call him a coward. "You got something you want to say, _Jailbird?_"

"Haven't we all got something to say? More of the truth is: is that which what we got to say relevant to the situation?"

"What's with you being so damn cryptic all the time?" Crabbe growled at the felon.

"Yeah!" Dagger agreed. "Give me a straight answer instead. Did you just refer to me as some kind of coward?"

Morse smiled. "I didn't say that. All I said was that the girl was the wise one for fearing those eggs."

Dagger put the muzzle of his rifle under Morse's jaw. "Did you just call me a _fool?_"

Morse's smile didn't falter. He didn't even look uncomfortable with the tip of a gun pressing against his unshaven chin. "Again your words – not mine."

"I ought to blow your stinking head off!" Dagger spat.

"You find our conversation justifiable for murder?" Morse asked, still as calm.

"Leave him, Dagger," Crabbe then said. "Tiny just got the door open. Let's dispose of these things so we can go and eat supper." Meanwhile a second pair of soldiers approached them from behind, moving another set of trolleys loaded with eggs with them. Their attentions were instantly attracted by the commotion ahead.

"I'm not going anywhere until Jailbird here spills exactly what he _means!_" Dagger roared in reply. Morse simply shrugged and began to speak.

"I only noticed that you seemed to imply to the child that those eggs were not to be feared. But why shouldn't she fear them? They wiped out her people, and that experience gave her the wisdom to be cautious around them as it is a natural reaction. Not fearing them would be quite unnatural, and no wisdom would then be gained. The question is: what has experience taught you, Dagger? Some bigger versions of those creatures almost killed you down there as I recall?"

"They didn't manage to kill me!" Dagger pointed out.

"No, but they did manage to make you pee in your pants," one of the newcomers; Cracken said. The corridor was filled with laughter at Dagger's expense.

"Did not!" he shouted. "I wasn't afraid of them!"

"Sure you weren't." Dobermann said. "You only screamed like a baby down there." Another set of laughter filled the corridor. Dagger became all red in his face as his manhood became threatened.

"I'm not afraid of them!" Dagger shouted, for some reason in Morse's face. Probably because the felon was the cause for the humiliation he felt right now. "_I am not!_"

Morse's eyes glittered. And almost inaudibly, he whispered to the soldier: "Prove it."

Dagger faced his taunting companions with determination in his face. "I'll show you I'm not afraid of them!" It was most likely because of the drugs he took. As the JOY inhibited his fear of death, it also dulled his sense for reasonable actions. No sane person would even think of walking up to one of the eggs, twist the handle on top of the claw to open the legs that locked down and secured the terrible sphere and then remove the entire device all together – but Dagger did just that. The laughter stopped and was replaced with shouts of disbelief and terror.

Crabbe: "_Are you crazy?!_"

Newt: "NO! _Don't do that!_"

Dobermann: "_Put it back, you idiot!_"

"_What the hell are you doing?!_" The last one was Hicks, who made up the rear guard of the last set of trolleys loaded with eggs, and who made it to the scene just in time to witness the drama that was about to unfold. Dagger was in a secondary rush, as the adrenaline pumped his JOY-filled blood through his systems. It made him look mad.

"Is this what you all are so afraid of?" he said loudly so that everybody would hear him. "I'm better than you! I'm _not_ afraid!"

Hicks tried to rush up to the front of the line of trolleys to get the maniac away from the egg he had just released before it was too late, but there were too many people in the way that he would have to circle around. And to his horror he realized that he wouldn't get there in time. The top of the egg opened up like a flower as the four petals folded themselves outwards. Dagger wasn't in the least aware the danger he was in his drugged state. Instead, he leaned in over the egg and shouted down into it.

"WOULD YOU LIKE TO HAVE A PIECE OF ME, YOU LITTLE SHIT?! GIVE IT YOUR BEST SHOT! I'M NOT AFRAID OF YOU! I'M NOT… _GLRRKH!_" A brief shriek and a blurred movement – that was all everybody managed to register as the top of the egg seemed to explode in Daggers face, and as he fell back all the observers could see the obscene form of a many-fingered hand wrapped around the soldier's head. Something finally got through Dagger's drug-dazed mind because he screamed in terror – but as he did, he felt the shape of some sort of a fat worm forcing itself down his throat, and that made him panic even more.

Dagger wasn't the only one who screamed – Newt did too as she relived in her mind how those horrible crablike things had done the same to her father, and twice they had almost got to her as well. Hicks finally reached the wriggling victim of the facehugger and as he had done to the parasite that had attacked Ripley three years earlier, he grabbed it in an attempt to pull it away. But this facehugger had already fixed itself in position with its long tail wrapped around the soldier's neck and it refused to dislodge, no matter how hard Hicks pulled at it. Dagger's muffled screams finally ceased and his body became absolutely limb – the creature now had him under its complete power. Hicks felt the defeat overwhelm him as he let go of the monstrosity. From this point it would only end with Dagger's demise no matter what they did. Just like with John L. Marachuk, a citizen of Hadley's Hope, the host would die even if they did manage to get it off before the embryo implantation was completed.

"_What's going on here?_" Colonel Decker had arrived, probably lured by the shouts and screams. "Who's responsible for this insubordination? I gave specific orders that the samples were to be brought to the storage room immediately!"

"I-it's Dagger, Sir. H-he..." Crabbe stammered and indicated to the comatose shape on the deck. Decker just threw a glance and then he roared.

"This is a clear violation of directives! The samples were not to be tampered with! Who did this?"

"He did it himself, Sir!" Cracken was quick to say.

"And you just let him do it?" Decker shot back. Cracken gulped. The colonel did a quick survey over the trolleys. "Did he do any damage to any of the other specimens?" Hicks couldn't believe it. The fact that one of his soldiers were down and in need of help would be the top priority of any commanding officer – but not with Colonel Decker. The objective of the mission was all that mattered to him. Newt couldn't believe it either.

"_You idiots!_" the girl shouted. Everybody turned to her with puzzled expressions because of her outburst. "_I told you this would happen! I told you they couldn't be contained! Now its beginning: they're breaking free, and they will destroy you!_"

Hicks realized with a sense of despair that this was the breaking-point for the child. She has finally snapped from the fear and stress she had felt of the mission she'd been forced to participate in. Tears streamed down her enraged face as she continued to have a fit. Hicks reached out to her to try to calm her down – but she jerked away and continued to scream.

"_You'll all pay for this! They'll kill you!_ YOU WILL ALL DIE!"

And then she turned on her heel and ran away. Hicks cried out for her, begging her to come back but she wouldn't listen. Ignoring the situation with Dagger and the facehugger, Hicks bolted off after her. Even if the child wouldn't admit it, she needed Hicks more now than what anyone else around here did – leave the fallen soldier to his team-mates and his commander. Fixer seemed to come to same conclusion because he too ran after the corporal. The people that were left behind just watched after them in confusion, wondering what the big deal with the girl was.

"Somebody will pay, all right," Decker said, totally untouched by the child's threat of an upcoming death. "And Dagger is the one who is held accountable for that." He turned to his troopers. "Take the rest of the specimens to the holding-chamber. Two men will take this low-life out of here."

Dobermann and Samson stepped forward and picked up Dagger's unconscious form. They both regretted volunteering though as they got into close vicinity with the pulsing parasite on the face, but it was too late to back out now. "We'll take him to sickbay, Sir," Samson said.

"Don't bother," Decker said. "There's nothing to be done about him now. Lock him up in the quarantine."

"Quarantine, Sir?" Dobermann asked in surprise.

"Was that a 'No copy' on my orders, trooper?"

"N-no, SIR! I copy, SIR! We'll take him to quarantine, SIR!"

* * *

"Newt! NEWT!" Hicks rushed around the corridors, but there was no sign of the girl. And he couldn't figure out where she might've gone to. It was all so frustrating: was she still avoiding him? He remembered Bishop's words that the child would urgently need the adult again sooner or later, but if this wasn't the moment, then when would it be? Bishop wasn't even aboard right now – he had requested to remain down inside the derelict ship for research of something until the next pick-up, so Hicks was on his own. Not that the synthetic would've been much help in this case anyway.

His hopes were raised when he heard the running of small footsteps coming up behind him, but it turned to disappointment when he saw that it was only Fixer. "Wait up, Corporal," the small man called.

"What do you want?" Hicks asked him angrily. "Haven't you done enough damage already? What made you take her back to that corridor where you knew we were transporting the eggs through? She didn't need to see that!"

"I'm deeply sorry about that," the little man panted, catching his breath. "I was just taking a short cut on the way to sickbay. That was not supposed to happen."

"To sickbay?"

"You don't know, do you? She's ill. She looked ready to collapse when I decided to take her there."

"All the more reason to find her, then," Hicks said, now feeling extremely worried.

"I think I know where she might have gone to. I promised not to tell, but she has found a spot in the ventilation ducts where she felt that she could be alone."

"The ventilation ducts. Of course!" Naturally the girl would go there - it was a familiar territory to her. Adults would never imagine why they would even enter the mazes that the ducts formed - they would soon get lost in there. But Newt had the ability to memorize every route she took, so she would never lose her way in there. It is the perfect hideout for a child. He felt stupid for not thinking of it - he had after all seen her outside one of those ducts earlier. "Can you take me there?" he asked Fixer.

"There's an access shaft big enough for you to enter further down this corridor."

"Lead on, then."

As Fixer had said, there was a protective grille in the wall that led into the air ducts. It was no problem for Fixer to enter it with his small frame, but for Hicks it was cramped - a repeat from when Newt had led them through the tight conduits of her colony years before. It was a weird memory since in his mind, it didn't seem so long ago. He still wasn't used to the fact that he has been 'dead' for three years.

After a while Hicks were really starting to become impatient. His hands and knees screamed in protest after crawling inside such a tight space, but he also felt how the rising anxiety for Newt's apparent illness was starting to get to him. He wanted so much to find her, to make sure that she was okay. But there was the risk that the child would hear Fixer and he approach her position – the ducts carried the noise they were making a long way ahead, and she might then go somewhere else to avoid a confrontation.

"Is it much farther?" Hicks asked the little man.

"No, it's just around that bend."

"Newt, are you there?" Hicks called ahead. "Please don't run away, honey. I just want to talk to you." They came into the cross-section that was Newt's hideout. It was too dark to see anything, but he could swear he heard a kind of a moan. He asked Fixer if he had a light and the dwarf produced a penlight from one of his pockets. They found Newt slumped to the floor against the far wall – she looked almost dead. But then she raised her head slowly, squinting against the light. Her pale lips trembled as she struggled to speak in a weak, pleading voice.

"Hicks… M-my chest…"

The two males saw it now – the girl was lying in a pool of blood that seemed to be oozing from her chest-area. And in the dim light Hicks could swear that he saw something pushing from the inside, trying to break out of her rib-cage. The ventilation network carried Hicks' anguished cry throughout the whole ship.


	14. Out of options

"You should have taken her to us _sooner!_" Dr. Peters scolded the miserable corporal. The surgeon who was second in command under Dr. Roman was angry, and he had every right to be. "Her wound on her chest has been torn open from all the stress she's been through! Even the rib-bone has separated again! And that last shock she suffered literally tore the stitches _apart_ under the bandages. And like that wasn't enough, her wounds have become _inflamed!_ It has been that for some time even, she was starting developing _gangrene_ in them! I had to administer several antibiotics to stop it!"

The more words that left Dr. Peters' bearded mouth, the more it hurt in Hicks. He looked down on the floor, unable to meet the surgeon's eyes behind his spectacles. He blamed himself for Newt's condition – it was his entire fault! He should have looked after her all the time! He was after all responsible for her safety – he should have seen the signs!

"And all the blood she lost – it's a good thing we had bags of it with her blood-type aboard for your resuscitation or she would be _dead_ now!"

_\- I was already certain she was dead inside the air-duct._ Hicks thought gloomily. It had just been the weak light who had played a trick with him, thank heavens for that – but he could've sworn he was seeing an alien burst its way out of the little girl's chest. It was most likely an effect after having witnessed Dagger get attacked by the facehugger, but that image, even though it had been a false one was still fresh in his memory and it was chilling his bones.

"How she endured all that pain I'll never know," Peters went on. "Didn't she say _anything_ about it to the two of you?"

"Not a word," said Fixer, who looked as miserable and downcast as Hicks. "I discovered how pale she looked, but she wouldn't admit it."

"It's her way," Hicks said without looking up. "She only had herself to trust after her people were killed. Even though we're her friends we're still outsiders which she won't trust with everything. It is habits hard to break."

Peters was not entirely convinced. "Maybe so, but that's no excuse for just leaving her to herself in a situation like this shortly after being revived from death. It was a close call, but the emergency surgery has stabilized her for now. Know this; had she died, there would be no revival to talk about this time. Neither her body or her mind would have been able to take it."

Hicks got to his feet. "Can we see her?"

"This close after surgery? I think not! Besides, she's unconscious."

"Please! We are the only one's she's got! Unconscious or not, it will help her to know that she's not been abandoned."

"That's an argument for a psychologist, not a surgeon!" Peters persisted. Then he sighed. "Very well. It's against my better judgment, but you got three minutes. Not one second more!"

There was so little time offered, but Hicks and Fixer took it. When they got to Newt's bed his heart sank even further. Hicks had expected to see the girl looking like she was only sleeping, but now he could see how frail and weak she was, almost looking more dead than alive. The two men sat down beside her, being able to do nothing but to share some space with her for a while. Hicks resisted the urge to caress her blond tresses, afraid to disturb anything. Poor little Newt. She's the one innocent victim who had suffered the most from everything that had happened. It seemed all so unfair. She had done nothing to deserve this. If only he had been there for her when she needed him the most. If only Colonel Decker had allowed her to remain in bed after her revival to heal properly. If only the EEV of the _Sulaco_ hadn't crashed and caused her to die. If only…

So many 'if only'. There were many situations that shouldn't have happened in the first place that have led to this. And suddenly Hicks felt a tremendous anger towards one person in the midst of it all. Strangely enough it wasn't anger towards anybody aboard the _Hercules_, not towards Carter Burke who'd set the alien outbreak on Acheron in motion… not even towards Michael Weyland – but at a woman who was now dead.

_\- This is your fault, Ripley! You did this to her! You may not be responsible for setting down on the planet in the first place all those years ago, but it would have been better if you remained drifting in space! But you came back, and now you've hurt this little girl! She trusted you, Ripley! She **loved** you, and you **butchered** her! It doesn't matter that she was dead – you violated her by ordering that autopsy, and now she's paying the price for it. Where-ever you are now Ripley, I hope you are seeing this and – god forgive me – I'm hoping you're rotting_ _**in hell** for what you've did to this innocent child._

All those thoughts swept through Hicks' mind at the speed of a blink of an eye, but it took several seconds for him to register the weak moaning coming from the child.

"…Help…"

"Newt?"

"…Help me…"

"I'm here, Newt," Hicks told her. "I'll help you."

"She's not awake, Corporal." Peters said from the side of the room.

"Is she dreaming?" Fixer asked.

"No, she's delirious." The surgeon explained. "It's the fever… and perhaps some of the meds too. Her body is fighting off the infection."

"…Help me, Mommy…" The girl was sweating, and started to breathe more heavily. "Mommy - Mommmyyyy!"

The girl was almost trashing now, and the sickening feeling of helplessness started to creep over Hicks again. No matter what happened here, there wasn't anything he could do to help her. All he could do was to listen to her continued delirium.

"Mommy – I mean, Ripley – I'm scared... Don't leave me… you promised… you promised you wouldn't leave me." She was crying now, and there were no wonder why to Hicks. He did start to feel a bit ashamed though for his anger towards Ripley. It was clear that the girl was still quite taken to the woman, strangely enough more so than she had been to her real mother. Ripley had after all been there for the child when everybody else had disappeared. Evidently the girl seemed to be willing to forgive the woman for what she'd done, if only she would come back. And that of course were not likely to happen.

"Your time is up," Peters then announced. "Get out."

"Please, let me stay with her. She needs me!"

"We had an agreement, Corporal! Besides, you might be carrying microbes that she's not having any resistance to right now. Do you really want to risk that?" The surgeon sure knew which buttons to push, so both he and Fixer reluctantly went their way towards the door. But as they walked away from the bed, Newt cried out again.

"…Hicks…"

The soldier hesitated, but the surgeon shook his head. It was only the delirium – she was still not awake.

"…Hicks… can't you do anything?" It was not an accusation – it was a pleading. Hicks were the only one she had who she could depend on now, but he had already disappointed her by saying that his hands were tied. _And look where that got her._ Well, not this time! This time he was going to answer to her plead, no matter what the cost!

* * *

The sound of the egg-claw locking itself around the fleshy ovoid was satisfying, because this was the last one. A good thing with the bulky and ugly egg-claws was that they were able to be stacked on the height before they were to be used. Not a neatly arranged stack according to military standards of course – the handles on the top of them prevented that – but adequate for transportation. Instead of the soldiers bringing one claw each per trip, colonel Decker had as many as possible brought down with the last drop piled on top of each other. Since Bishop had stayed behind on the ground during the night, he had used the time to put the claws on all of the remaining eggs in the derelicts cargo-hold. 200 specimens were what the _Hercules_ had come to collect – they had to settle with 147. That's how many that had survived under the energy-field, the rest had succumbed by time since the derelict had crashed on this rock of a planetoid. Of the surviving eggs, two dozen of them had already been hauled up to the ship.

But with the last egg secured, Bishop could now direct his entire attention to the research he wanted to undertake. The energy-field that covered the area of eggs was intriguing. He was 100 % positive now that it was designed to shield the eggs from detecting potential hosts on the other side, and he wanted to know how it worked. Bishop had put a small portable energy-meter on the mound that seemed to emit the strange field. With it he had recorded every harmonic the field had made by the reactions the android's presence had caused to it every time he'd broken the barrier. He was specifically interested in finding out if the field was sometimes inconsistent – maybe it from time to time rotated its frequencies for a recharge. If any of it did occur, then it was all registered now. With the data he had collected, Bishop was certain that he would be able to pin-point the exact frequency of the barrier – and that would become an invaluable asset to his research. Even better: now that all of the eggs were secured, the field was rendered superfluous. Bishop could now risk looking closer at the technology that generated the protective shield without risking 'contamination' should he by accident switch it off and be unable to activate it again. He sat down on his knees to match the height of the mound and started looking for an access-port. That's when his radio crackled.

"- Bishop? Do you read me?"

"I'm receiving you, Hicks. Is it time for pick-up already?"

"- It's quite unlike you to lose track of time, Bishop."

"Even an artificial intelligence like me can get lost in his work."

"- What's the situation down there?"

"As good as it can get. I've just secured the last of the eggs. It's all safe to come down if you'd like."

"- Believe it or not, but that's exactly what I had in mind."

"Standing by," Bishop said, finishing the conversation. He didn't pause to wonder how come Hicks was willing to come down to the 'belly of the beast'; it was indifferent to him. Instead he continued to examine the mound-like generator. The untrained human eye would easily have missed it, but Bishop's artificial eye-sight found the near-invisible seam in the middle that went all the way around. The mound was like a vase built into the floor from which you were to unscrew the top half to get into. It was an interesting choice of design. He wondered if that had any cultural significance concerning the people of the dead pilot upstairs. Maybe there was something Bishop could learn about them as well as he was about to get a closer look at their technology.

Bishop didn't bother to turn as he heard the sound of somebody stumbling on the floor. The visitor was expected.

"So… this is where it all began," Hicks stated, looking around with distaste evident in his voice. The cargo-hold was gigantic, and filled with thousands upon thousands of eggs as far as he could see. It was a good thing that all of them were dead – only the ones under that weird blue shimmer had survived. _One pocket of the cargo-hold had survived - and it was still enough to mark the doom for a whole colony, and maybe even an entire civilization._

"It did for us - at least as far as we know." Bishop confirmed. "I can't help but to wonder if the crew of the _Prometheus_ happened to run into something like this?"

"For their sake, I hope they didn't," Hicks said. "But for all we knew, they might've run into something much worse, although I can't imagine what could be worse than this."

"I can imagine worse," Bishop said, still without looking up from the mound. He was looking to see if there were any other seams in it before he tried anything with the one he'd found. "…but I suppose that is too hideous to share, so I keep it to myself. We'll just settle with that we can consider ourselves lucky that we're home-free now, with the eggs secured and all."

Hicks snorted loudly, and that was what made Bishop finally look up from the mound he so vigorously investigated. Now he noticed how dark the corporal's eyes were – his face was a mask of utter bitterness and despair. It was a look of someone who had just lost everything and was out for revenge.

"What happened?" Bishop asked, and Hicks told him; about Dagger and about Newt. Bishop grew concerned. "This is grave news. I did anticipate in my calculations that somebody might do something stupid, but I found the odds to be low under the risk. I didn't expect Dagger to be so unpredictable."

"People who take heavy drugs are an unstable bunch, Bishop. They can never be expected to be predictable."

"This is bad, Hicks. This mission is neither equipped nor prepared to handle a fully developed alien."

"Don't tell me, tell Colonel Decker!" Hicks spat. "He's not going kill it! He expects it to be contained within the quarantine walls once it is… 'born'."

Bishop pondered on this. "Perhaps it can be contained for a while. If only I could add some extra protection… it means it is very important that I get back to work!" Bishop turned back to the 'mound'. He gripped it tightly on either side of it with both hands and tried to twist it in every direction he could think of, looking for a side to where it would budge. He found none. In the end he had no choice but to crack the seal to make the top come loose. As he removed the lid, the shimmering barrier covering the eggs disappeared – and from the base of the now exposed generator the energy cascaded upwards in an uncontrollable frenzy like lightning bolts. Bishop was pleased. That meant that the top of the generator's covering was an energy-sprinkler. There had to be special lenses inside of it that directed the flow outwards into a perfect and steady field. He also found the edges of the covering interesting. There were no sorts of slides anywhere on it that would enable the top to lock onto the base. It looked more like it had been fused – or… grown. Could this material be self-regenerating? That once you've put the lid on, the edges would merge together like biological tissue – could this material be part organic?

So many mysteries that Bishop would love to try to solve, but there was so little time. He took a closer look at the generator. The lightning had a high immensity of power. Should a human try to look into it, he would burn his retinas. But Bishop was artificial – not only could he look into the light without causing any damage, but the irony was that the dark goggles he wore to cover the camera-lens imbedded in his eye-socket helped to filter out the strong light even more. Therefore he could perfectly see the four levers within the cascade. It looked like some sticks that could be moved up and down – those had to be the power-regulators. Before Bishop touched them he memorized the positions right down to the exact millimeter. Then he reached inside and touched one, pulled it upwards. The cascade seemed to increase in power, and Bishop realized that there was a potential risk of danger. He didn't want to risk any damage to the specimens or to Hicks for that matter – this would have to be attempted if he would get the chance to be alone down here, after the eggs had been removed. He pushed all the levers downwards into the base of the generator and suddenly the energy was snuffed out. The unit had been shut down and the environment suddenly felt kind of dark and gloomy. Only the sound of some of the eggs rattling since they detected the presence of a human was heard – and the crackling of a radio.

"- Hicks! What's happening down there?" It was Sgt. Hurst. Although he had not fully recovered from his encounter with the aliens earlier, he still insisted on continuing the mission. He was a soldier and a soldier did his duty even if he wasn't entirely fit for it. "- I'm still waiting for confirmation on hauling up the specimen. _Get your thumb out of your ass, you Sissy!_"

Hicks grumbled and attached the end of the line that had lowered him down the hole to one of the clawed eggs. Then he grunted a confirmation into the mouth-piece of his radio and the load was dragged off towards the chimney as the people upstairs reeled it in.

"You may get this load, but there won't be anything for tonight," Hicks muttered as he fished out a flat object from under his armor.

"What did you say, Hicks?" Bishop asked.

"I don't know what you're working with there, Bishop, but you had better be quick about it. It won't be here for much longer." he said as he put the object on the floor between several eggs.

"What are you doing?!"

"I went through Dixon's stuff before we flew down here. You can't believe how many inconspicuous bombs that maniac had built. Not only was he a walking arsenal, but his locker was literally a weapons depot." Hicks put a water-bottle on the floor, which was actually a secret grenade. "I have no idea how he got his hands on so many explosives that he rebuilt, but it sure suits my purpose. Since they're not standard issue in appearance, I managed to smuggle several of them down without anyone noticing it."

"You're planning to blow this place up!"

"You can bet your diodes that I am! This has got to stop _now!_ I owe it to Newt, to Ripley, Sgt. Apone, Hudson and to the rest of my team as well – hell, I owe it to _everybody_ those monsters have killed!"

Bishop sighed. "You shouldn't have told me, Hicks. I'm going to have to stop you now."

Hicks turned and faced the android. "You _what?!_"

"I told you that my programming will not allow anything to hinder this mission. Michael Weyland implanted absolute obedience into my psychological profile. He wants these specimens and I'm obliged to deliver them to him despite the danger these creatures' presents."

Hicks challenged Bishop. "And how exactly are you planning to stop me? By force?"

"Don't go there." Bishop advised.

"You're a liar, Bishop. You've got an implanted behavioral inhibitor – you cannot harm me."

"But what you don't know is that the command-codes Michael Weyland supplied to Fixer when I was re-built overrule my subroutine to protect humans. My obedience is my prime directive. I'm trying to work around it as much as I can, but I can only do it if you'd allow me to work with my research. I cannot let you destroy this place!"

Hicks drew his gun from his holster and pointed it to the android. "Get out of my way, Bishop! I'm warning you!"

"Put that away, Hicks! I'm warning _you!_"

With a flick of his thumb Hicks released the safety-catch on his weapon. Then the android moved with such great speed that the corporal didn't have time to react. Bishop grabbed his gun-arm and twisted his wrist, making Hicks drop the weapon as he grunted in pain. Then Bishop forced the soldier around and twisted his arm up to the shoulder-blades of his back in a hammerlock. Hicks cried out in both agony and rage.

"My subroutine preventing me from harming humans is overruled, but the routine to not allow a human being to harm me is _not!_" Bishop informed the other. "You may not agree with my methods, but I am trying to _save_ you! _All of you!_ Don't make this any harder than it already is!" The android released the corporal. "Now Hicks, pick up those explosives and leave. Please don't make me report this incident in to Colonel Decker. It won't do either you or Newt any good."

"Damn you, Bishop!" Hicks roared as he massaged his aching arm. "DAMN YOU!"

* * *

Colonel Decker was at the moment standing outside the big view-port that separated the quarantine from the observations lounge, together with chief med-technician Dr. Roman and her assistant Arnolds. The three of them were observing Private Dagger who was strolling around his completely bare cell like a caged animal, looking all but nervous. Dagger in turn could not see his commanding officer or his staff right now because there was a privacy-shield in place. The glass that separated the prisoner from the officers was two-layered: aside from the thick pane of Plexiglas that was permanently affixed into the walls, there was another thinner pane of glass in place that was one-way polarized. They could see in, but the occupant of the cell couldn't see out – and the cell speaker was also turned off, so Dagger couldn't hear them talking. He was therefore not at all aware of that he was being watched. Instead he kept pacing around, but he avoided the far right corner. It was there the facehugger lay dead, but the soldier looked at it as if he expected it to suddenly jump up and attack him again.

The three spectators stood watching in silence. Not because the medtechs didn't have anything to say, (on the contrary they had a lot of thoughts they wanted to express,) but because they were waiting for Colonel Decker to give the signal to remove the privacy-screen. Finally the C.O. gave the nod and Arnolds hit a button. The outer layer of glass that was one-way polarized was raised up into the roof and communication systems were activated. Dagger rushed up to the view-port the instant it disappeared.

"Colonel!" he almost cried. "Get me out of here!"

"Why should I?" Decker's face showed no indication of sympathy for the private at all. "You got yourself in there."

"But I didn't do anything!" Dagger whined. "At least get that thing out of here!" he said, indicating to the dead parasite. "It gives me the creeps. What if it's contagious?"

"You've already been exposed to it," Dr. Roman said, stating the obvious. "You won't attract any worse than you already have."

"But I'm not sick!" he shouted, slamming his hands into the glass. "I feel fine! Please, Colonel! I won't cause any more trouble, just get me out!"

"Dagger, I've come to realize that I have done a mistake with you," Decker said. "I shouldn't have let you take those drugs. I suppose I've got myself to blame: I need soldiers who can do what's required of them without question and without scruples. To artificially suppress those kinds of emotions has clearly proved to be an ineffective solution."

"I _am_ the soldier you need! I have no scruples – I never did!"

"Instead you are a coward!"

"Am not!"

Decker's face was filled with contempt. This sorry excuse for a soldier was even more pathetic than he'd realized. Not only was he a whiner and a weakling, but his petty attempts to deny his own faults made him absolutely despicable. Being rid of him would not be a loss.

"Dagger, you're an idiot! You were born an idiot and you lived your whole life as an idiot!" Dagger looked like the colonel had just punched him in the solar plexus. "Maybe dying will prove to be your greatest deed ever done, at least in the name of science and for the sake of the mission!"

Dagger became white in his face. "Dying? Am I going to die?"

"Don't tell me you didn't listen to the reports on how those creatures evolve."

"They're all true?!" Dagger nearly choked on those words. "I've got one inside of me?!" The silence he received from the spectators stated the facts. The doomed man instantly became panicked. "NO! This can't be happening! You can't do this; you've got to help me! You've got to…" Then he paused, and he put his hand to his chest. "T-there's something moving… I-I can feel…" He slammed his hands on the glass again, now completely terrified.

"_Colonel! I don't want to die!_"

Colonel Decker was stone-faced, seemingly uncaring of what was about to happen. Dr. Roman also kept her cool, but her eyes displayed another kind of emotion; a scientific curiosity! She _wanted_ to see this! Only Arnolds looked uncomfortable, but he didn't speak up for the soldier either. Instead he stood quietly, mentally preparing himself for the grotesque show that was about to take place.

"COLONEL!" Dagger cried again, but he pleaded to deaf ears. Then he began to convulse and as he groaned in agony, he spitted out some drops of blood. And then he screamed and fell to the floor where he wriggled and trashed as the center of his chest began to bulge and rise. A red stain blossomed on his shirt and finally Dagger's chest erupted in blood as the pale, fanged skull punched its way out to freedom.

Arnolds turned away to retch. Dr. Roman was trembling, as if she'd just witnessed something spectacular. Colonel Decker just stood there, as still as a statue, betraying no emotions at all.


	15. Hicks' tale

Hicks had sat in the chair beside Newt's hospital-bed for several hours now and he had given absolutely no indication to that he would vacate it any time soon. Actually, to try to persuade him to leave turned out to be dangerous, because the corporal had no intention of doing so. After his failed attempt to blow up the cargo-hold of the derelict - an attempt foiled by from his perspective a traitorous android - Hicks had gone straight back to sick-bay to be with the child. There was nothing else for him now – he couldn't stop this insane mission from being completed, the only ally he'd thought he could rely on had turned his back on him. Fixer was incapable of doing something as he was just a civilian engineer. Morse was a felon – there was no way Hicks was going to trust him. And everybody else aboard the _Hercules_ all answered only to Colonel Decker.

There was only Newt left: the young sole surviving colonist of LV-426 whom Hicks originally had been sent to aid. That was the only military mission he cared about now. Of course, it wasn't only in the military interest that he would do so. It was also because he really liked the little girl – so much that he'd threatened to shoot anybody who would dare to try to step in between him and her. Hicks had as he had done previously asked for three minutes with her after he'd come in and Dr. Peters had reluctantly agreed to it even though she was still heavily sedated into unconsciousness. But when the surgeon had asked him to leave as the three minutes were up, Hicks had without saying a single word put the muzzle of his gun against the bridge of Peters' nose – and he had done the same to anybody who had tried to talk him out of sick-bay. In the end Peters had gone to Colonel Decker to ask him to have Hicks forcibly removed from there, but the colonel hadn't cared. In fact, Colonel Decker had stopped caring about the prodigals all together. He had other priorities that took precedence – the welfare of a civilian patient that was officially dead was not worthy of his concern. Decker didn't even care about Hicks' insubordination or disregard for hospital rules – at least not for now. The corporal was no longer essential for the mission, so Decker would for the moment not waste any time with administrating any immediate disciplinary actions against him - however later when time would be available, that would be rectified. But right now that was something that didn't bother Hicks; he'd deal with that when the time came for it. So in the end the medtechs could do nothing except just leave him sitting in the chair and ignore him – that solution was the least problematic. And the corporal hadn't been any trouble since then, he just sat quietly beside the girl's bed. He only became alert when the doctors came to give her new medication and change her bandages, as it was the only time he would allow them near her.

All three of the head doctors were gone now – only Peters' nephew Phillips were left looking after the sick-bay, a job he wasn't doing any good. The unsocial nurse spent most of his time in the doctor's office drinking booze and reading different magazines, possibly something that Hicks suspected was related to pornographic literature. He threw a glance towards the office just to make sure that Phillips intended to stay put. It seemed like he was going to do so since the nurse was putting on some headphones over his ears to listen to some music, and out of the corner of his eye he saw that the little girl had finally come to and was focusing her blue eyes at him. Hicks sat straighter up and turned to her with a relieved smile on his face.

"Hey," he said. "How are you feeling?"

The child didn't say anything. Instead she gave the adult a petulant look that clearly said: 'Oh, I'm fine. I only just tore up my chest and almost died. Next silly question?' Hicks weren't offended by it, because it had been an inane question. It had just been the first one that had come to mind as a form of greeting to welcome her back. His next question was not so inane though.

"Are you thirsty?" The girl's petulant look disappeared and was replaced instead with eagerness as she nodded almost imperceptibly. Hicks put a water-bottle with a metal tube on top of it to her lips. She sucked at it greedily to sooth her dehydrated body. Hicks removed it before she was finished though.

"You can have more in a moment," he told her gently. "But you've been out for almost two days without solid nutrients. I want to give your metabolism a chance to catch up." She didn't understand all those technical terms, but the meaning behind it was clear. She surrendered to it. There were times when she had to face the facts that the adults knew best, and she didn't want to get any more sick than she already was.

By all standard protocols, Hicks should alert the doctors right now to inform them of Newt's changed condition. But there was only Phillips available and he didn't want a drunk anywhere near the girl. He would have to rely on his own basic medical training, hoping that it would be sufficient.

Once she had got all the water she needed, Newt laid back her head against the pillow. It looked like she composed herself and Hicks suspected what was coming. It was a subject he didn't want to think about, much less talk about in the presence of the child. But it was unavoidable, and it was better if it came from him rather than anybody else. And then she spoke for the first time.

"Has it come?"

"It… happened a couple of hours ago. It's locked up in quarantine. A microbe isn't capable of getting out of there, but…" He stopped himself. The girl was perfectly aware of that this wasn't some sort of germ they were dealing with. There was no need to go into details and risks where such a creature was concerned. "Anyway, as far as I've heard: it's still there."

"They just let him die? They didn't try to save him?" Her voice was weak and totally flat. There was no fright or anger in her tone; it was just a question to get a confirmation of what she already suspected.

"Dagger was considered expendable, just like everybody else on this boat is," Hicks told her. "He will only be regarded as a casualty in the line of duty, dying for the sake of the success of the mission. There won't be any more details around the circumstances of his death than that. Somehow I don't think he'll even receive a proper send-off.

"Granted, Dagger wasn't a good man – hell, he wasn't even a good soldier… but no one deserves to die like that. The worst part is that in the army there's a rule that clearly says that you never abandon a comrade in need, but that's what happened to him. The colonel… his comrades… they all left him to his fate. That makes them no better than the monsters."

There was a lump in his throat. He thought of his own former comrades from the _Sulaco_ that were left to their fate down under the atmosphere processing station. Although there weren't anything the survivors of the first assault wave could have done to save them, Hicks still felt ashamed that they just had left their comrades behind inside the alien nest to be cocooned. But Dagger hadn't been in a nest – the most humane thing to have done would have been to put a bullet to his neck and sparing him of the agony – but that mercy was denied him – all for the sake of the mission.

Newt lay still with her eyes closed as she took it all in. The funny thing was that it looked like she smiled a little.

"So, _that's_ what he meant," she whispered. "Now I understand."

"What is it, Newt? What do you understand?"

The girl fixed her eyes on the adult again, looking thoughtful. "My mommy always said that there are no monsters. No real ones…" She paused, remembering how she once said those exact words to Ripley. But the woman never heard the part that Newt now was about to share with Hicks. "But then my dad said something that always made mommy mad, and I couldn't understand why he did that to her since they always ended up fighting about it."

"What did he say, honey?"

"He said that _true_ monsters… come in shape of _humans_. I never understood what he meant by that – how could humans be monsters?" The girl looked a little pained now. "I thought mommy was the one who was right… but she wasn't, was she? It was dad! He was talking about people like Colonel Decker… like Carter Burke… even Mr. Weyland! They're the ones who are the true monsters, aren't they? Because they're evil. They're willing to kill other people just to get their hands on the creatures… That's monstrous!"

Hicks were immensely impressed. "Newt, you are without a doubt the smartest little kid I've ever met!" His statement was absolutely genuine and for a short moment the girl looked pleased. But the pained look quickly returned and it wasn't because she felt the ache of her wounds.

"Then that makes twice my mommy was wrong… the monsters are all real, even though she said that there weren't any. She lied."

"No, sweetie, you mustn't think like that of your mother. She _did_ tell you the truth… only it was the truth that she knew of from her own point of view".

"_Her_ point of view?"

"Newt, you're going to find that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view." Now where did _that_ come from? It must have been something from a movie he once liked. Anyway, it sounded good. "We each get different experiences in our time that molds our opinions. Your father must have met a couple of bad people, didn't he?"

"Uh-huh. He always said that the people running the Company were bad people. He didn't like them."

"And it sounds like you mother never got to see that side of the men your father referred to, so for her it was only natural to adopt the goodness that she saw and accept it as her truth – and it was that truth that she wanted to pass on to you."

"I understand… I think." The girl seemed to ponder on it. "But why wouldn't she let my dad tell me his truth then?"

Hicks smiled. "I can't speak for all parents, but many of them don't want to let their kids know that there's evil out there. They think it'll give the children nightmares and they want to protect them from that. Sometimes parents can get a little too overprotective and easily assume that kids can't handle it."

"Ripley told me that too – that they believe that kids can't handle it, I mean."

"Well, you certainly can… even though I know it feels difficult for you sometimes. But I want you to know that you are a brave little kid, and any parent would be very proud of you."

"Are you a parent?" That question took Hicks completely by surprise. It was a subject he generally avoided, but their heart-to-heart talk had somehow steered it into that direction.

"Got a son out there," he admitted. "He's about your age. Come to think of it, he's much older than that. I tend to forget that it has been three extra years. Not that it matters… I haven't seen him since he was a small baby."

"Why?"

"My… ex-wife won't let me near him."

"Why?"

Hicks hesitated. He had never told this story to anyone before – not to anyone in Sgt. Apone's team or to any friends in his civilian life. It was an uncomfortable subject, not something he was willing to confide to anybody. But eventually he knew it had to be told to somebody, and he didn't want to ruin the connection he'd just made with this little girl. And if there was someone he felt had a right to know, it was her. Hicks composed himself and began telling her his story.

"It began when I was doing my military service in my youth – I met this extraordinary woman. Her name was Sarah. I was a cadet and she was a general's daughter doing the basic training of her own. It looked like an uneven match and I was warned to stay away from her – but we connected. We did all the training together and we spent most of our time in each other's company both inside and outside the camp.

"I fell in love with her, totally head over my heels. One problem was that she came from a military family and she was expected to marry a high-ranking officer. I took career for her sake in the marines – it was a compromise for not being an officer when we married. Her father was not pleased at all about it. Anyway, as by rules; husbands and wives never go on the same missions together – however it would have been good if we had, it might possibly have been discovered earlier then what kind of a person I actually was."

Newt turned to her side to face Hicks, listening intently.

"Turned out I was not the hard-core of a soldier I was expected to be in the marines. I did my job and I did it quite well, but I was still an anomaly – too optimistic, too calculative, too much of a thinker before taking action. Not the kind of soldier the army requires. The rumors of me not being a 'man' enough in the field did reach Sarah's ears, but she didn't pay much attention to them – at least not in the beginning. But then she got pregnant with our son John…"

Hicks leaned in closer to Newt's face. "Remember what I said about different 'points of view'? Sarah came from a family-line of soldiers, and she had already planned ahead to keep up the tradition. The boy was to be raised with military conditions so that he would become a great military leader – a true 'man'! That's when I did the mistake of for once talking first before thinking."

Hicks averted his eyes; looking downcast… the memory was painful. "I didn't agree with her… I didn't think it was right for us to decide for the boy what he would become. I wanted to raise John with love, with the same conditions as any other kid would get – and then let him decide for himself what he wanted to be as an adult.

"Sarah wasn't just angry – she became absolutely furious! And now she took on to the rumors that she had heard: she claimed that she had been tricked into marrying a 'sissy' and not a man. And she would not let me turn her son into a wimp! Those were her words. She took our baby and left. A week later I received a request for divorce, along with a court-order that forbade me to ever come near John again. And like that wasn't enough, her father the general filed a transfer for me out of the camp, straight into _this_ unit!"

Hicks looked back at Newt. "There you have the true story on how I ended up with the 'Rawhides' – it was their way of telling me how a true army-man should be like. And yet that wasn't the ultimate insult… Sometime later I received the last letter I ever got from Sarah – it contained a wedding-photo. She had married some major in the corps - a true man in her opinion, and a worthy father for John. She wrote that she would never tell my son who his real father really was, it was a shame he could be without. She had even changed his birth-certificate – as far as the world knows, the major is John's real father.

"My memories of that cuddly little boy are all I have now. The only thing I could do was to get a transfer out of the 'Rawhides' to start anew… it was a hard work, but I finally managed - for all the good it did me…"

Hicks fell silent for a while, lost in the memory. Newt bit her lip before she took the courage to speak. "I think your wife was stupid. I like you just the way you are. I think it would be great to have a father like you."

There was a subtle hint there, Hicks didn't doubt that. But he found that he didn't mind. "Thank you, Newt. That means a lot to me."

"Do you… like me?"

"I've wished you nothing but happiness since the first time I met you, little one."

"Liar."

Hicks were surprised. "What makes you say that?"

"The first time we met I bit you in the hand, remember?" The adult looked at her in astonishment, and then they both burst out in laughter. Newt couldn't laugh for long though as it hurt in her chest, so Hicks settled with tousling her hair in appreciation. He made a secret vow right there that no matter what happened; this girl would survive, even if it meant sacrificing himself.

* * *

Bishop's artificial body was back aboard the _Hercules_, but his mind had departed again. He was once again inside the Network of the Company, searching through the classified files in search for more secrets concerning the previous alien encounters. He was most particularly interested in the transmission that had originated from the crashed derelict that had lured the _Nostromo_ to LV-426. He hoped that there might be an algorithm in the original signal to use as a base-point to extrapolate the exact frequency of the energy in the presence-masking barrier.

Bishop was certain that the race of the dead pilot had designed their equipment to be powered by the same energy-form: the barrier, the hidden control-panels he'd found, the transmitter and possibly also the propulsion-systems, (There were after all no visible afterburners outside on the hull of the ship, so it too had to be energy-based.) they all had to come from one pool of energy. But there had to be a basic algorithm used to harness all that power. If he could learn to control that energy-source then there was no telling of what he could do, all that he could learn from that crashed ship.

There were certain risks involved of course – the ship had been there for a long time and the energy was almost depleted. There were several 'pockets' of eggs in that cargo-hold, and each of them had their own mound-like generator. Bishop theorized that every one of them had been active when the ship crashed – but as the years had gone by, they had all shut down one by one to conserve power for the others. And without the protective shield that helped to keep the nutrient mist inside, the eggs had withered and died. Only one 'pocket' had still been active when the derelict had been found, one last batch of eggs being kept preserved. But Bishop had shut down that last generator as well and now he wanted to use the power that remained in hopes of activating the other systems – if only he knew in advance on what level of power he should start to use. He didn't want to risk burning it all out at once.

Eventually Bishop found a copy of the signal that had been sent out by the derelict – he listened to it several times, looked at the extrapolations the experts had made and studied their results. He was certain that there were some misinterpretations in it, but this was not the time, nor was there any particularly good reason to try to work out a new translation.

He didn't find the algorithm he was looking for though – the signal was not only garbled, but after all it had been recorded over sixty years ago. The technology of that time hadn't been sophisticated enough to get a full analysis of it so deep out into space. Bishop left the Network. He would get no answers there.

Back in his body he did a visual sweep all over the science lab to see that nothing had been disturbed. All was as he had left it: the partly dissected body of the alien drone still lay on the stone-table with its chest cut open and exposed – he expected the acidic properties of its blood to be completely neutralized by now. That meant he could start examining all its inner organs more closely without risk of the instruments to be destroyed.

Bishop took a moment to study the X-ray scans he had taken earlier. Strangely enough, the creatures seemed to lack several of the most essential organs that a life-form should need. Unlike the face-hugger though, the alien drones didn't have the intricate network of forms and tubes that the smaller versions did which still were a mystery of what functions they served - but what the larger organism did have were several extra organs that seemed to be unnecessary. But they couldn't be: every organ in a human body had a special function – he couldn't believe that such a resilient creature like this would be so full of worthless appendages.

Before he went to work, he took a look at the computer to see if it had managed to sort out anything of the energy-data he'd brought up from the derelict. No such luck yet. But it wasn't so strange – this was an unknown energy-form, it didn't correspond with anything that was already in the archives. The computer had to do a complete basic analyze to make anything of it and that would take time. Leaving the computer to do its task, Bishop took the recharged laser-cutter and went over to the body of the alien which waited for him. He found it remarkable how the torso was so inverted – the rib-cage lay outside the body rather than on the inside. It would be interesting to see what else could be turned inside and out. He activated the cutter and reached inside the torso…

* * *

Within the storage-room for toxic disposal, the clawed alien eggs stood stacked all over the place in silence. The parasites within them were not aware that they had been removed from their resting place, not that it would have concerned them anyway. They were after all one-purposed, so they didn't have much intelligence to speak of. It didn't even matter to them that they have been trapped within their ovoid shells… the fact was that they had temporarily already forgotten it. All that would matter to them was if there was a living entity coming near them, so that they could latch on to them and implant the embryo which resided within their abdomens. Once that task had been done the parasite would die – the concept of that didn't bother them. It was as devoid for a desire for life as it lacked a sense of boredom. The waiting didn't bother them either, and since there were no entities around they just spent their time sleeping - the urge to do its only task in life wouldn't appear until something approached them. And while the eggs were locked inside a sealed area, it wasn't likely to happen anytime soon. So the eggs were still, devoid of all activity – until the intruder made his way inside.

Instantly the eggs began to shake and rattle as the parasites within them came to life and struggled to get out of their shells. But each of the spindly metal claws hindered them, stopping the four petals from flipping open to allow them to get out. The intruder watched the eggs, listening to their internal struggle. He felt an overwhelming anxiety, a fascination for their determination and their power… The intruder put a hand to the leathery surface; his heart pounded in rhythm with each beat the parasite inside made. Was this how a pregnant woman felt as she felt the unborn infant kick? Do they feel the same anxiety in those moments as he does right now, feeling the wondrous life inside?

"Patience, my friends." A disembodied voice whispered in the darkness. "Not long now. It won't be long now…"

* * *

In the quarantine section of the ship, Dr. Roman and her assistant Arnolds busied themselves with several analyses and observations of the newborn creature. It had been well over a day now since it had emerged and it had developed rapidly already within the first hours. With enraptured fascination the scientists had witnessed how the newly born little alien had shed its translucent skin and then quickly metamorphosed into the big and terrible organism that had caused so much death and horror. It was bizarre; an obscene elongated head, six-fingered hands, a huge tail and weird dorsal horns. Arnolds found the beast absolutely hideous while Dr. Roman found it absolutely beautiful. And yet something was wrong…

They couldn't tell what it was – they had after all never encountered one of these creatures before to be able to do a match. All they had were vague reports and they weren't all-the-way specific. At first they believed it only had something to do with its early stages of development, but as the specimen grew, the scientists became more concerned. Right now the creature was curled up against one of the farthest corners of the quarantine-cell, apparently hibernating – or waiting. The biotechs couldn't tell. But they got the impression somehow that it was closer to the latter.

Colonel Decker entered the observations-lounge, marching in with is usual strict and erected posture. The colonel would never allow himself to go slack with the military discipline although his soldiers couldn't see him. He was the commanding officer and he had an obligation to set a good example for the troops whenever the situation called for it and even when it didn't. He walked up directly to the view-port and peered inside without acknowledging the scientists. His face became grim though as he saw that nothing had changed. Decker had encountered this species personally down in the derelict and had got, although only briefly, a good look at those before he'd taken the hit to his chest and tossed away, so he too got the impression that this wasn't right. Without turning his head, he addressed Dr. Roman:

"Speculations?" he asked shortly.

"All theories are inconclusive." Dr. Roman answered as formal as the colonel delivered his question.

"Is there a prognosis for a change later on?"

"It's impossible to give any. Our knowledge of it is insufficient!"

"Then we'll have to get advice from someone who has sufficient knowledge then, don't we?" Decker said. The prospect of that bothered the woman. She was the chief biotech, this was _her_ project; assigned to her by Michael Weyland himself. She didn't want any help from outsiders. However time was limited and sometimes you had to take a short-cut if the possibility exists, no matter how much you disliked it for personal reasons. Tightlipped and angered, Roman turned to her assistant:

"Get them."

* * *

_Isn't Tic Tac Toe supposed to be a __**simple**__ game?_ Hicks thought melancholy as he saw his row of black marbles once again be blocked by a white marble, and there was a three-in-a-row winner of white color again! It was the simplest game aboard the ship; none of the 'Rawhides' ever touched it as they felt that it was a kids game and nothing that big sturdy men like them would ever spend their time with. They still wondered who the wimp was who brought it aboard in the first place.

Well, it certainly was _this_ kid's game. Of fourteen games played, Hicks had only won three. When he'd brought it to the sick-bay, he had planned to let the girl win most of the games, but he was beginning to think that it was the other way around. Newt seemed to anticipate his every move and always made a block just like when it seemed that he had the advantage.

Hicks cleared the wooden base of all marbles to start another match. He was enjoying this challenge and he could see that Newt had a good time too. They both needed this: for a moment they had actually forgotten about the aliens, forgotten about their ruined lives and the predicament they were in. Newt even seemed to momentarily have forgotten that she was sick, despite the fact that she hardly could move right now. She had received a new dose of antibiotics for her inflamed chest not that long ago and she was still quite dazed by the effects. Her right arm was the only limb she could use at this time, but her mind seemed to be partially clear. At least clear enough to beat Hicks at Tic Tac Toe.

The door opened and somebody with heavy footsteps came in. It was Bishop.

"Who's winning?" the android asked with a strangely cheerful tone as he saw what was going on between the two.

"It sure isn't me," Hicks said without looking up and without a hint in his voice that he still was angry with the synthetic. Newt hadn't been told what had happened between the two of them and the adult didn't feel that it was something she needed to hear. Bishop and he may not see eye to eye right now, but the android was maybe still considered a friend of Newt's, and she needed everyone she could have. Hicks would not ruin that despite what he felt for the other. The girl's need was more important.

"I'm sorry I didn't come visit you earlier, Newt," the newcomer addressed the small patient. "Are you feeling any better?"

It was Hicks that answered for her. "She can't talk that well right now. It's actually better if she didn't attempt it. The meds she's getting have weakened her motor responses and I've recommended to her to save her strength to adapt. Otherwise she would tire out quite quickly."

"But the inflammation has gone down?"

"That's what Dr. Peters tells me. The continued medication is to make sure that it doesn't take hold again. And we'll have to make sure to change her bandages at least once a day."

"You're in good hands, Newt," the android told the girl. She only glanced at him, smiled a little weakly but didn't answer.

"So is this a social visit or did you come here for something?" Hicks tone wasn't aggressive – but Bishop knew that the corporal didn't want him there. He didn't let it show that he had understood that though.

"A little of both, actually," Bishop answered in his usual calm voice. "I did want to let Newt know that I'm concerned for her and that I wish her a quick recovery – but I also require some equipment for my research. I need to pick up a test-tube centrifuge and some syringes."

"I'll make sure to tell the doctors where the stuff disappeared to," Hicks said with a slight hint of dismissal. Then his eyes went wide. "How in the world did I miss _that_?!" Newt had beaten him again with another three in a row.

Bishop came back from a corner a minute later with the equipment he collected. "Please tell the doctors that I borrowed a biogenetic growths-chamber as well."

"I hope you're going to use it to grow a virus that will kill every alien that comes in contact with it," Hicks said, this time with a sarcastic tone.

"That would be a very dangerous development. With the creatures' powerful immune-system there isn't a virus that can affect them. More likely you'd happen to create something that will make the black plague look like a minor cold."

Hicks turned towards the android. "That's one of the things the Company's weapons department is after! Could there possibly be something that can be created from the aliens' genetic make-up? Bishop, you're not _looking_ for something like that, are you?"

"No, nothing of the kind. I'm actually studying something else right now. Something much more interesting."

"I find nothing interesting with them except where their most vital parts are located so that I can destroy them as quickly as possible!"

Bishop sighed. "I can see why scientists and soldiers never get along so well. Hicks, I am convinced now that the specimen I've got in the science-lab are of the same brand that got aboard the _Nostromo_. Ripley's crew picked up a worker-drone sixty years ago - the brand that tend to the need of the queen and to the eggs."

"What difference did it make to her if she picked up a worker-drone or a warrior? Her crew still died!"

"The way it behaved and the way the drones down in the derelict that attacked you was behaving," Bishop said patiently. "I've studied Ripley's memories recorded in the hard-drive thoroughly, and there are some vague details that are particularly interesting. It appears that the first two crew-members that the drone captured: the engineer Brett and captain Dallas, they weren't killed instantly. In fact, the creature did something to them."

"What did it do?" Hicks on the other hand were more impatient.

"Sadly, she didn't know. As I said, the memories are too vague and she was too terrified at the time to comprehend what she was seeing. But I have a theory which I am not ready to divulge yet. The point is that the drone aboard the _Nostromo_ and the drones you faced down there worked after the same principle: they weren't ready to kill you. In fact, I believe their primary function is to make sure that the colony expands while the warriors' job is to protect the hive. And I'm certain that every drone alike work in a hive-mind so that the plan proceeds that way. Had we faced only warrior-drones down there, we would all have been killed instantly."

"So the worker-drone spared our lives?" Hicks asked.

"Yes. Because as you said: they needed you for the eggs."

"Yet that doesn't explain what you need the equipment you picked up here for? So you've got a worker-drone in the lab, what significance does that make in the end except to satisfy your scientific curiosity?"

"As I said, I'm not ready to divulge that theory yet. But as it stands right now, I admit that it won't give us any real tactical advantage."

"Then why waste time with it if it's nothing we can use?"

"Scientific curiosity," Bishop said after a short hesitation, sounding embarrassed. Hicks nodded as if in saying: 'I rest my case'. In that moment, medical assistant Arnolds came into the infirmary.

"You are ordered to come with me to the quarantine level," Arnolds said to Bishop and Hicks without as much as a greeting.

"And just who gave those orders?" Hicks asked.

"They were issued by Dr. Roman…" Hicks nodded and turned away from the assistant, signaling that he had no intention of following those orders. "…with the approval of Colonel Decker. They are both expecting you there," Arnolds finished. Hicks looked back at him with a displeased expression evident in his face.

"Quarantine level?" he questioned. "What for? I already know what's there and I have no need to see it!"

Arnolds stood his ground. "Corporal, you know full well that military protocol don't require you to know the errands in advance. If you receive orders from your superior officer, you are to follow them without question."

"That's tough words from somebody who is not even in the military!" Hicks challenged the assistant and Arnolds actually did lose some of his self-assurance.

"Look," the junior biotech finally said. "You will know what they want with you when you report there, so why don't you just come with me as you are ordered?"

Hicks grimaced unpleasantly at him but got up from his chair. "I'll be right back, honey," he told the girl in a far gentler tone than he'd given the other, caressing her arm.

"She's coming too," Arnolds said. Hicks threw such a sharp look at him that he took a step backwards.

"What – did – you - _say?_"

"A-all three of you are to r-report to…"

"She is _not_ going!" Hicks growled to the biotech. "I am not going to allow you to force her to face that nightmare! And besides, she's sick! You as a doctor should know that she's not to be out of bed in her condition!"

"Colonel Decker is aware of that…" Arnolds said. "…and he doesn't care. I am to bring all three of you to quarantine level one way or another, even if it means that we'll let one of the soldiers drag the girl there…"

Hicks grabbed the man by his collar and raised his arm to hit him, but as always Bishop intervened by grabbing Hicks' outstretched arm and tried to talk some sense into the corporal.

"That won't help anything, Hicks! Listen, we better do as he says, but only so that _we_ can take charge of Newt instead of letting another do it carelessly. Decker won't let it go until he got what he wants – you know that."

"When we'll get back to Earth I'm going to report Decker to the Colonial Administration!" Hicks roared loudly. "I will have him court-martialed for violating civilian rights and I won't rest until he's demoted to _permanent _latrine duty!"

"You'll do that when you get back – I won't stop you!" Arnolds said with a trembling voice. Hicks still held him by his collar. "But until you get there, you better do as he says now, or you may never get back."

"Was that some kind of _threat?_" Hicks asked the now nervous assistant.

"No, just stating facts! You're officially dead, remember? No one will acknowledge you until Mr. Weyland say otherwise. And don't forget that you're not even officially _aboard!_"

Angrily Hicks let go of the assistant. He went back to the bed where Newt lay and he saw that the child had already surrendered to Colonel Decker's orders. She was stretching out her arms towards him, waiting to be picked up. Hicks slipped his arms under her shoulder-blades and legs and lifted her carefully up. Newt folded her small arms around his neck and snuggled against his chest to get into a comfortable position. And then they all went to the section of the _Hercules_ where the nightmare was being held.

Colonel Decker stood with his hands folded behind his back facing the view-port to the cell when the prodigals arrived to the observations lounge of the quarantine section. As all of them entered through the door on the far end of the corridor, Decker only slightly turned around to tell them to come up to the window. Hicks was about to tell him off for how he risked Newt's health, but the colonel had obviously anticipated it and beat the corporal to it.

"You can put her back into the hospital-bed once you've told us what we need to know concerning the specimen!" Decker said in a tone that stated that that would be all that would be said about it. It was Bishop who as usual took the role of the reasonable one.

"Is there something wrong?" the android asked.

"That's what we need you to tell us," Dr. Roman said impatiently. "Take a look at it."

"Exactly what are we supposed to look at?" Hicks questioned the woman. "If you've seen one alien you've seen them all."

"That's not exactly true, Hicks." Bishop said. "As I just said, we faced two brands down there. And a queen should also be considered…

"SHUT UP, BISHOP!" Hicks shouted. The android looked wounded. He had simply not understood that Hicks didn't want to bring Newt up to the window.

"That's why you're here," Decker said, unconcerned by Hicks' outburst. "Tell us which brand this is."

Hicks remained where he was with Newt in his arms, but Bishop stepped forward and peered in through the glass. The cell on the other side of it was almost totally devoid of light, which was just as well. Bishop's artificial eyes could see clearly through the darkness and he could see that Dagger's manhandled and decaying body was still in there on the floor. There was no way to get that out without getting into the same space as the creature that had to be remained constantly contained. And as for the creature itself…

"It's not what brand this is that concerns you, is it?" Bishop asked.

"What can you tell us?" Dr. Roman asked.

"I suspect not that which you'd want to hear."

Hicks didn't want to be, but he was beginning to get curious. There was something else going on here obviously. He was about to take a small step forwards towards the dark window when Newt indicated to him that she wanted to get down. Her gaze was also plastered to the view-port.

"Are you sure?" he asked. The girl nodded and the adult complied. Struggling to remain steady on wobbly legs, the child walked slowly up to the Plexiglas. The antibiotics injected into her systems that had dulled many of her motor responses also had the affect same to some of her senses, so her immediate instinct to avoid the aliens at all costs was at the moment suppressed. She gazed inside the dark room through the window – in the corner there was a shape blended in with the shadows, unmoving. But then slowly a rupture began to form in the middle of the darkness. The light from the observations lounge was shining in and was reflected against the chrome teeth that were right now being revealed. But as more as the lips parted, the more unnatural it became. The row of teeth became slowly wider, but it also became more curve-shaped. It was beginning to look like some kind of a grin.

Newt leaned in closer against the window. The shadow moved and slowly approached her as well – the row of teeth seemed to get bigger as they got closer… and it was still looking like a grin.

"No," she said almost inaudibly. Hicks thought that she was beginning to get afraid and moved in to get her away from the view-port.

"It is wrong… all wrong," Newt mumbled. "It's… not supposed… to look like that." And then Hicks saw it too. The brand was that of a warrior-drone, Hicks knew enough about them now to determine that. But it appeared to be misshaped! Its height still towered over that of a fully grown human, but compared to other aliens, this one appeared to be quite short and wider in an odd way. It looked like it had been extracted from an image of a TV-screen where the picture had been squashed. But the most disturbing difference that distinguished this one from the ordinary creature was the drooling grin: a satanic, maniacal smile. Hicks recognized that grin. It was the same one Dagger used to have when he was inebriated with JOY.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say that this thing is high on something." Hicks said lowly.

"You're probably more right than you know." Bishop concurred. "It did after all grow inside Private Dagger."

"What do you mean?" Dr. Roman asked. She looked like a mother who'd just received news that her newborn child was born with a disfigurement.

"There's a theory that the embryos implanted inherits the physical characteristics of the host as they grow. Also the facehuggers appear to rewrite some of the host's DNA to graft into the embryo as they feed on the nutrients of the body. Dagger's blood was filled with high concentrations of drugs that affected many of his basic thought-patterns. Quite obviously that has been passed on to this subject.

"Someone like Dagger should never have been a host to those creatures," Bishop continued. "The JOY he took is integrated to this drone – it wouldn't surprise me if it produces it on his own just like humans produces endorphins."

"You're saying it is a walking JOY-factory and a consumer at the same time," Hicks said. "That means we got an alien that's permanently high on drugs! And if it is anything like a drug-addicted, it is most likely crazed!"

The alien appeared to be watching them as they talked. It tilted its elongated but flattened head from one side to another repeatedly, the padded shoulders pumped up and down and the massive tail rocked back and forth like a pendulum. And its grin then became even wider… frightening… monstrous… maniacal!

"I stand corrected." Hicks said as he watched it with a growing concern. "That thing's _definitely_ crazed!"


	16. Multiple dilemmas

The mess hall aboard the _Hercules_ was not as loud as it used to be. Usually when you'd come in there to eat you could always expect to hear loud conversations that contained insults and bad language – but as Hicks came in to dine now, the other soldiers was for once eating in silence. That would be a mystery for any outsider, but Hicks knew quite well what the reason for the lack of excitement was: the absence of private Dagger and Corporal Dixon spoke volumes.

It wasn't the men themselves that were missed. The first thing you had to learn about the members of the 'Rawhides' was that no one liked the other and there were no exceptions, especially when it came to Dagger. The fact that the two men were dead didn't concern their living comrades in arms – the truth was that they were pleased that a least one of them was gone. Dagger had always been in the way and had been as annoying as he'd been useless in combat. His death would prove to be an improvement to the unit. What was really bothering the soldiers were the _way_ Dagger and also Dixon earlier had perished. The 'Rawhides' always considered themselves invincible, especially when they were behind their guns and squeezing the triggers. But that feeling was now gone; the xenomorphs were experts in taking that away from an adversary.

This mission that had started out to look like it would be incredibly boring and uneventful to the 'Rawhides' had proven to be something else altogether. Those disgusting blobs that for some reason were called eggs were a lot more dangerous then what they appeared to be, and the fact that those were the only the first stage of something a lot more menacing made the situation even more disgruntling. The 'Rawhides' had all been nonchalant about the creatures in the beginning and had refused to listen to the three prodigals' warnings of how deadly they were. But now they had witnessed it firsthand: first with the three mature ones that had guarded the cargo-hold of the derelict and then they had witnessed how Dagger had been attacked by one of the parasites from within the eggs.

The rest of the reports of the aliens' life-cycle didn't seem so ridiculous anymore, especially not now when they had a new full-grown creature aboard. None of the remaining members of the 'Rawhides' would ever be first to admit it, but the feeling of invincibility had all left them and they were all now painfully aware of their own mortality, especially with the hanging risk of dying so horribly. None of them, not even Sgt. Hurst whom always was willing to carry out his orders, wanted anything more to do with the eggs or the mission, but they were stuck with it. That's why they just sat quietly and simply digested their supper.

That was why Hicks could now sit and eat without anyone paying any attention to him. He was alone at his table. Because of all pain-killing drugs and antibiotics, the simple trip to the quarantine-level had been enough to wear Newt out. She had fallen asleep in Hicks' arms and he knew that she would be out for a while. Therefore after he'd put her back in her hospital bed he figured he could take the opportunity to re-nourish himself. Bishop had gone back to the science-lab to continue with what he was doing. _To hell with him_, Hicks thought, thinking dark thoughts about the android.

"May I speak with you for a moment, Corporal?" From out of nowhere, Robert Morse suddenly stood by his table. There was right now not a single person aboard the _Hercules_ that Hicks wanted to sociable with - the only exception lay asleep in sick-bay. But as for the rest of the crew, Hicks considered them all his enemies. Therefore since he had no friends aboard, he had to sort the people of his surroundings into a category of which ones that were the most tolerable to be around with, and the prisoner Morse was not on his top-five list. He still didn't know where he had the felon in this matter.

"Actually, I'd rather…" Hicks started, but Morse sat down on the opposite side without waiting for an approval of his request.

"Are the rumors true?" Morse asked.

"What rumors?" Hicks asked, not understanding what there could be for story circulating around the ship now.

"That the creature that's held captive in the quarantine is a whole new brand? It's an entirely different species?"

Hicks snorted loudly. "That's not a 'new' brand, it's a retard!"

"Are you sure?" Morse asked. "You don't think that this might be a new step in the evolutionary chain?"

"Don't be ridiculous, I've _seen_ the creature! I'm not a biologist, but I definitely recognize a case of devolution when I see one!"

"Too bad," Morse said, looking thoughtful. "Can't help to wonder though what the reason behind it could be. God must have an agenda…"

"_God?!_" Hicks couldn't believe what he was hearing. "God has _nothing_ to do with these monsters! They're an _abomination! _They've destroyed an entire colony, and it took just _one_ to wipe out every inmate of your prison. You're lucky you got out of there alive!"

"Luck had nothing to do with it. I've made a deal with God to live forever. That's the sole reason for my survival." Morse explained this as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Hicks had to summon all of his self-control to not lash out at the felon for such ludicrous superstition. Hicks were not an atheist, but he didn't exactly embrace religion either. He respected the belief in God, but only to the extent of Sunday schools, church work and other services conducted by people whom had decided to work under the name of their lord. But he did not believe in direct conversations with the lord and he completely abhors the idea of people doing acts of terrorism or 'holy wars' in the name of their gods because they had decided to interpret something that had been said in a book all the way to the letter. There was so much he wanted to argue against it, but he didn't. Hicks were after all a soldier; it was his duty to fight for the right of every human to believe in whatever they wanted to even if he didn't agree with it… providing it doesn't hurt anybody else.

"Is there a chance that I might get to see it?" Morse then asked the other.

"No chance at all," Hicks said, completely surprised that the felon had even voiced such a wish. "It is strictly held under military supervision, there's no way they will let an unauthorized person near it unless there's a specific reason."

"Then would you mind describing it for me?"

"Why so interested?"

"It's for my book." Morse answered, and Hicks saw now that the former prisoner of 'Fury 161' held a padd in his hand. "I want as good descriptions as possible to give my readers all the exact details concerning those creatures. It is expected of an author."

"Maybe so, but still… God or no God, you barely escaped with your life from one of those things. Don't you hate them?"

"Let's just say that I got a healthy respect for them, and I want to prepare humanity in advance should a disaster occur by giving them all that I can provide. That way they won't be taken by surprise like how we in the prison were, or like the poor souls in the colony down on the surface. May God have mercy on their souls."

Somehow that was a logic that Hicks couldn't argue against and since the military would not divulge any information about the xenomorphs, then perhaps a warning should be provided to humanity by unofficial channels. So Hicks gave Morse what he wanted – quietly so that the soldiers from the other table wouldn't overhear him.

"Thank you, Corporal," Morse said with a tone of satisfaction as he put the last digit on the screen of his padd. "This will be a preview going out on the net presenting my next book, together with a eulogy for Private Dagger so that the people will know what he died for."

Morse's banned books; the forbidden stories of the alien massacres that the felon has written to inform anyone who reads them of the horrors that exist out in the universe. It was a tribute to those who had fallen victim to the xenomorphs, and as what he said earlier: to honor Ripley's memory.

"What do you say about us three?" Hicks asked. "You said that you were going to write a whole new chapter concerning our survival."

"No offense, Corporal…" Morse said as he got up from his seat with his eyes fixed on the padd. "…but in the end I've decided to exclude the three of you all together." He just left without giving any further details as to why, leaving Hicks both dumbfounded and concerned at the table. In any other situation Hicks wouldn't give much thought of not being included in the memoirs some persons wrote – but in this case it meant that by not being included even in those banned stories, the resuscitation of the three prodigals were still only known among the people aboard the _Hercules_ and to Michael Weyland back on Earth. To anyone else, they were still dead and they would most likely remain so even after the mission was completed. _In the end it all came down to money._ Hicks had grown quite sure that Michael Weyland would not risk bankruptcy to his company by allowing three survivors to tell the world how a worldwide corporation had deliberately sent so many people to their deaths in order to get their hands on such a deadly organism. Hicks had not told either Bishop or Newt, but there was no doubt that there was a plan set to make sure that no witnesses returned with the true story. The crew of the _Hercules_ and the three prodigals were without a doubt doomed from the start.

* * *

_This was all doomed from the start!_ From every perspective, Bishop had just made the breakthrough that would earn a man the Nobel-price. Under his guidance, the computer had managed to analyze and categorize the energy that was used within the derelict ship on the surface into a basic composition. Using that proto-formula, Bishop was within his own RAM-interpretive mind able to calculate ways to harness that power and use it most effectively. He now knew how that power was supposed to be used to best control the alien monsters – it would be quite easy to do, if the data hadn't turned out to be so worthless!

_It just couldn't be done!_

The race that had created and harnessed this energy-source was more advanced then Bishop had first thought. They were way ahead of human-kind, so much that this age of technological development on Earth could still be in the stone-age compared to those. No matter how high-leveled the technical geniality of humans was, there was no way today to duplicate this alien technology. Not in this lifetime. He couldn't remove and adapt technology from the derelict either to use – those were integrated to the ship. It would just become hunks of junk if somebody were to take the parts out. And without this defense there would never be a way for humans to be able to control the creatures – any attempt would be completely futile. The original message transmitted from the derelict that the Company intercepted sixty years ago had been true to its words. There was only one logical course of action to take where the aliens were concerned: _Stay away from them no matter what!_

The message had been a warning, but unfortunately the curiosity and the arrogance of the Company had been far too great: they just wouldn't listen, which also meant that neither would they take on Bishop's recommendation to let the whole mission drop. Michael Weyland was too obsessive of getting his hands on the aliens, and he would stop at nothing until he had gained success. Hundreds of people had already been sacrificed in this hopeless quest – how many more was the Company willing to let die? When were they finally going to give up? They probably never would. When there were billions of Dollars at stake, the chairmen would always overlook the risks involved. And with some substantial rewards offered, many unscrupulous men would always be willing to undertake the risks of completing the task to obtain the specimens, never understanding that they will undertake a suicide mission until it becomes all too late. Newt had been right: _They don't understand… none of them ever will, because they don't want to. They won't survive. They will all die._

Bishop sat slumped into the chair in front of the computer, feeling loss of what to do. It wasn't a real feeling of course – it was just electronic pulses rushing around wires and circuit-boards within his artificial body, sending data to different memory-chips to be analyzed and coordinated with already stored information and instructions. And right now none of that data was compatible. One instruction was overridden by another, which in turn was overruled by yet another directive which clashed with the first instruction; and round and round it went without being able to reach a conclusion. It was only natural to describe it as confusion, even though it wasn't a biological feeling.

Bishop's main concern was that he wanted to save the lives that were at stake with this mission, but that option was no longer available. That meant that his prime directive to obey the Company to accomplish the mission and bring back the specimens took precedence, but that went against his programming to not allow a human being to get hurt. His implanted behavioral inhibitor strictly forbade that outcome! Bishop's processors almost became overheated with all that circulating data that clashed with each-other, but fortunately his other protective systems took over to save his hardware. It shut down the current program running within his mind and halted the analyzing processors, storing the information within separate memory-chips and kept them isolated. It was a relief for Bishop (another faked feeling) because now he was able to deal with each directive separately.

As it was, to avoid a mental shutdown he couldn't allow himself to become obedient to any of the directives he was programmed with at this moment, which meant that he had to stall for time. He needed another option, and perhaps the dissected body of the worker-drone could present him with that. Bishop went over to the examination-table were several of the alien's extracted organs were displayed in a row. Many of those pale yellow-colored lumps of flesh were still a mystery of what their purpose were, but some others did present some remarkable discoveries. One of those organs was meant to produce a jelly which Bishop had managed to reproduce in the biogenetics growths-chamber he had borrowed from the sick-bay's laboratory and poured into a test-tube. However that jelly was a terrible compound - it would be unethical to use it. And yet he couldn't escape the feeling that this was the answer he needed. Bishop was an artificial being - premonitions were not part of his programming… but with the way things were developing, the android knew that disaster was coming up. Newt had been right about that too: it was inevitable. Bishop had to make peace with the feeling that the crew of the _Hercules_ was doomed - there was no way to save them. But perhaps there was a way to change the outcome of the mission: it all depended on what was going to happen next…

* * *

The three observers watched the misshaped drone through the Plexiglas – the drone in turn watched them as well. But while the observers stood still on their respective spots, the drone paced around alongside the view-port. The three on the side of the observations lounge were grim-faced – the caged one was grinning as manically at them as it always had done. It was a disturbing situation.

"What are we supposed to do with it?" Arnolds asked carefully, feeling a little afraid of speaking out of turn.

"It's still our first live specimen," Dr. Roman spoke determinately. "We can still use it for our tests, so it goes back with us!"

"But it's crazed!" Arnolds argued, shivering as he saw how the grinning alien watched him through the glass.

"Do not use the corporal's lies around me!" Roman scolded her assistant. "That's his hate for the creatures talking. But that fool doesn't understand: he doesn't see the marvel of these specimens – the perfect organism!"

"Be quiet, both of you!" Colonel Decker told them off. He stood in the middle between the two scientists and he didn't like having the two of them screaming in his ears. Decker too was a little at loss of what to be done about the misfit alien. Naturally the Company wanted prime specimens, which would favor for terminating this creature. It also would solve the potential danger of keeping this creature alive in quarantine during the journey home, he'd prefer all of the subjects as subdued as possible like with the eggs. But then again, some mutant specimens have proved to deliver scientific breakthroughs that would not have been found with the ordinary creatures. Decker was of course not a scientist – as a matter of fact: he usually resented those people. Weapons and military strategies were his tools of choice in his line of work, not scalpels or microscopes. But he was also aware of that some things should never be thrown away as it could prove to be useful later. For the success of the mission, it never hurt to bring back some bonuses. But as Decker watched the alien focus its attention on him through the view-port, he could for the world not imagine what kind of scientific advantage this freak of a creature could deliver.

"It has to go back with us, Colonel," Dr. Roman insisted. The alien shifted its focus on her as she spoke. Obviously it could hear everything being said through the speaker systems and as it could see her lips moving, it was intelligent enough to understand that it was her emanating the sounds. The mutant alien put its own mouth against the Plexiglas, getting as close to her as it could. The woman also moved closer and rested her forehead against the window. It almost looked like she leaned in for a kiss. The alien moved back slightly from the glass, its mouth opening widely – and then its teethed tongue shot out and struck the window right at Dr. Roman's face. Clear mucous smeared the glass and the woman jerked back quite startled.

"You should have expected that," Decker told the woman, unmoved by the action the alien had done. Roman gave the colonel an angry glare. The creature only grinned widely and moved slowly past Decker and stared at Arnolds instead. The assistant cringed back, unsure of what to do.

"Stand your ground!" Decker all but hissed at him. "Don't show any weakness to the hostility, that's when it gets the upper hand!" Arnolds gulped and moved slightly closer to the alien. This was all a challenge. If the creature could intimidate its captors, then it would know that the soft prey was not in total control, and that could become a dangerous development. Human and alien stared at each other for a short while through the port, challenging the other to back away. The alien opened its big maw again and repeated its action with its tongue. Arnolds jumped as it happened.

"Weakling!" the colonel snarled at him. The assistant turned away in shame. The alien now moved to Decker. The C.O. of the 'Rawhides' stood completely still, didn't change his expression even the slightest. This creature would not be allowed to intimidate him! The alien tilted its head, grinned, observing the last human. It could tell that this one would not give in to fear and the fact was: it didn't matter to it. For the third time the creature opened its mouth widely – the colonel stood firmly on his spot, ready for anything. The other side of the glass was smeared with a yellowish fluid in front of Decker's face, but there was no 'thud' heard. The creature hadn't struck the window this time – it had spitted on it. The colonel only cooked an eyebrow at this weird action and turned away. He thought no more about it – until an alarm exploded in their ears.

"_Warning! Structural integrity of security glass in quarantine level has been compromised!_" a computerized voice in the P.A. systems was heard. "_Warning! Structural integrity of security glass in quarantine level has been compromised!_" The colonel's eyes flew back to the view-port. The spot where the alien had spitted on was smoking, bubbling and sizzling and a vertical pit had formed underneath the fluid that became bigger by each passing second. Decker stared at the alien as it dawned on him what had happened, and the creature's grin seemed to become even wider. The alien had spitted _acid_ on the window!

"Nobody said _anything_ about them being able to do _that!_" Decker roared. The acid had now eaten through the whole pane; a small hole now exposed the sealed area to the observations lounge.

"_Warning!_" the computerized voice sounded again. "_Quarantine containment breach! Evacuate the area immediately! Engage emergency lockdown! Warning! Quarantine containment breach!_"

"COLONEL?!" Arnolds shouted in fear as they all saw how the creature took a few steps back and seemed to take a charging position.

"_Get out of here, now!_" Decker ordered. They began to run at the same time as the alien did. With an inhuman velocity the creature jumped at the window and since its structural strength had been severely degraded because of the hole the acid had made, the alien broke right through it and into the observations lounge. Arnolds didn't have time to get away – the crazed alien caught him and made the assistant face the grinning victorious mouth of the behemoth. Arnolds screamed in a desperate plea for help but there was nothing to be done for him now. The colonel rushed towards the exit with Dr. Roman slightly ahead of him.

Colonel Decker was actually deaf to the screams of death as the alien ripped the man apart – what concerned him was that with the speed and agility the creature possessed, the colonel calculated that the alien would most likely be quickly done with its' victim and still be able to catch up to the two fleeing persons before they would have a chance to close the door and engage the emergency lockdown protocols to the quarantine. He couldn't let it escape! For the sake of the success of the mission – the mission _always_ came first – he needed to distract it to win just a few more seconds, even if it meant certain sacrifices. Dr. Roman had reached the door and was about to rush out when Decker caught hold of the collar of her lab-coat.

"He's your assistant," Decker told her. "Now _you_ help him!"

The color fell off her face as the woman realized what the colonel was about to do. "_Colonel, Nooooooo…_" she protested in a high-pitched voice as Decker hurled her towards the already waiting arms of the alien. As deaf as he had been to Arnolds' death-cries, he completely ignored Dr. Roman's last agonizing scream as he rushed out through the door, slammed it shut and hit a big red emergency button to seal the breached areas of the quarantine. Hidden pistons within the walls locked the door into place and rubber-hoses inflated to cover all ducts and frames where air could escape. The observations lounge of the quarantine area was sealed like a vault – the alien was once again locked up. The fact that two of the chief scientists had just lost their lives in the process didn't concern the colonel the least. The creature was trapped and that was all that mattered.

* * *

The first time the alarm had blared, it jerked Hicks awake from his slumber in the chair beside Newt's hospital bed. The girl also awoke with a start and became wide-awake instantly. They didn't even need to hear the message that was about to sound over the P.A. systems: they both knew that this had something to do with the aliens! Their worst fears were confirmed when the computerized voice reported of the structural integrity failure of the safety glass in quarantine. When the report came of the containment breach just seconds later, they knew that the crazed alien had escaped its confinement and was loose on the ship at the very moment. Feeling the cold claws of terror gripping on to her, Newt crawled over to Hicks, threw her arms around his neck and began to sob. Hicks responded with hugging the child tightly to him while he continued to listen to the reports that came over the P.A. systems. To their relief, the report came in that the emergency seal around quarantine had been activated, and nothing else was said about the alien roaming around the ship afterwards. They had made it – at least this time. But for how long? Hicks knew that there would only be a matter of time before something else happened. If they didn't act now, they wouldn't be so lucky next time. Hicks knew what had to be done – to try to convince the other people aboard the _Hercules_ though, that was something entirely else.

* * *

_The ball was in the roll!_ That was what was going on! The first escape of the alien was the sign that had been awaited; now it was the time to take action! The lone figure moved carefully along the corridor so that he would not attract attention. The risk of that wasn't so great though – when the first alarm of quarantine breach had sounded, every crewmember was to report to a specific post to await new instructions. It was a rule, and since the soldiers aboard the _Hercules_ were lead by a man who strictly followed military regulations, there would be no exception this time. That meant that the destination the figure was headed for would be unoccupied – he should not be discovered, but he was still nervous. He was after all on a mission and he dared not fail.

As expected, the corridor was deserted and there was no sound or any other signs of somebody approaching. The way was clear. Stopping in front of the heavy door, he reached out to the keypad that kept the room behind it sealed. Tapping the right sequence of numbers on the pad, the machinery accepted the code and the heavy door rolled aside. The figure entered the storage-room for toxic disposal where the alien eggs were stored. The eggs were for once calm despite the presence of a human, which was unfortunate. Had the eggs rattled as they had done before, the intruder might have gotten too discomforted and escaped the area. But the eggs made no sound now, and that brought a false sense of safety into the figure – he actually figured that he had nothing to fear here. That meant he could do his task without danger. Reaching out with his hands he took hold on one of the claws that sealed the egg – and removed it! And then he removed the next claw… and the one after that! As the intruder continued to remove the claws, several of the now released eggs twitched, and the top on each and one of them opened up like a flower…


	17. The rogue soldiers

As per procedure, all the marine soldiers of the 'Rawhides'-unit were gathered in the briefing-room until the emergency was declared to be resolved. Had it been a military attack against the ship, then everyone would have reported to their respective specially assigned posts to fight it off – but this emergency had been caused by a breach in the quarantine-section. As per rules, no one was to go near that area unless they were trained for it, and no one was allowed to run around on his own on the ship while the danger of contamination were present. So they all waited in the briefing-room as they were supposed to, but the mood in the atmosphere in there was as dangerous as a quarantine-breach was. They had been there for almost 50 minutes now since the alarm went off. The 'Rawhides' were restless and agitated since they could do nothing else but to wait. A bacterial-spread was another enemy that they really hated, because it was a threat you couldn't oppose with a gun. They were even angrier because they all knew that there was no bacterial threat. Quarantine section was the cell for the alien they had captured and those did not immediately spread any viral infections. If the alien was loose, then they all felt that they should be out and search the ship and exterminate it! Their bloodlust had temporarily made them forget the terror they had felt down on the derelict ship when they first encountered the species.

"How much longer are we supposed to be holed up in here?!" Dobermann asked impatiently. His team-mates agreed with his inquiry.

"We will wait here for as long as Colonel Decker deems it necessary!" Sgt. Hurst replied harshly.

"This is ridiculous! We're wasting our time here!" Private Shawn was as frustrated as Dobermann.

"Be quiet!" Hurst shot back at him with the same edge in his tone as he'd given the smart-gun operator. "If I can wait here patiently, than you can certainly do so as well!" The sergeant was stern, but it was a good thing for him that he had a new pair of shades covering his eyes after he had lost his previous ones down the derelict. Because in truth he was as restless as the rest of the soldiers, and his eyes might have given away his feelings had they not been hidden behind these. He knew that the threat of the escaping alien had been dealt with, but none were to leave until their C.O. gave the clearance to do so. The colonel always did this whenever opportunity presented itself: testing the patience of his troopers in pressing situations, making it into a drill to see if anyone would crack. The one who did was in for a harsh refurbishment-course. And Sgt. Hurst had no intention of showing any signs of stress. Just like the colonel, he had to set an example for the troopers since he was second in command. He was about to give them all a reprimand for being such whiners when the screen on the wall came on line. The image displayed a gigantic picture of Colonel Decker as it showed him sitting in his office. It made him look more intimidating which was just the point. He was turned away from his own desk facing the hidden camera within his own screens to make eye-contact during the conversation.

"The crisis has been dealt with. You may return to your posts and resume your duties. I expect an evaluation-report of this operation on my desk at eighteen hundred hours." This was delivered on the exact second of 50 minutes passed since the first alarm.

"Yes, SIR!" Hurst said and saluted. Decker didn't return it. He just swiveled back towards his desk and the screen went blank. "All right, _now_ you can go. But you can be sure that I will put in my report of your lack of discipline being displayed here, Dobermann and Shawn." The two soldiers grimaced, but said nothing. "Get back to your posts!" Hurst ordered.

"Not yet." another voice said. "I want to speak with you first." It was Hicks, standing in the doorway and blocking the path.

"Well, look who has finally decided to show up." Hurst said in a patronizing tone. "Has your time of being dead made you forgotten what quarantine breach-protocols means? You were supposed to report _here_ 50 minutes ago!"

"Yeah, right!" Hicks snorted. "Everyone gathered in one single space without weapons with an alien roaming around the ship? Do you know where it would go? _Here!_ Where the meat is!"

"That's not up to you to decide!" Hurst countered. "You disobeyed a direct order, and I will personally make your head roll for it!"

"Yeah, it's been contained again so who cares?" Crabbe said. "Get out of the way!" Everyone began to marsh towards the door and if Hicks didn't get out of the way, they would simply and literally step over him.

"Doctors Roman and Arnolds are dead!" Hicks declared. The news made everyone stop in their tracks. They had not heard of this before. "I was in sick-bay when Dr Peters received this information. Decker claimed that they gave their lives to make sure that the creature wouldn't escape! There's no way that they would have done so willingly – which leads to the conclusion that Decker sacrificed them somehow! In other words: he murdered them!"

The soldiers all looked at each other. After a short while, one of them finally said: "So?"

"_So?_" Hicks were shocked by this nonchalant reaction from them.

"Then they died for the sake of the mission," Cracken said. "That's an acceptable loss."

Hicks frowned. He should have expected this. Lives of other beings meant nothing to the 'Rawhides' – ethics were superfluous. That was after all the main reason why he never fitted in with this unit – one of the reasons why Sarah left him. He composed himself and changed tactics…

"And you really think that it won't eventually happen to you too?"

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Cracken replied angrily.

"'For the sake of the mission'. That's what you just said! Dagger and Dixon are already _dead_ for the sake of the mission!"

"They were fools…" Simpson started to say.

"The sarge and Shawn were incapacitated by the creatures – Morgan was burned by the acid – and none of this mattered to the colonel! Do you really think _you're_ safe?"

"This is starting to sound like _insubordination!_" Hurst protested.

"But the beast is contained now," Shawn said, but Hicks noticed that he didn't sound so assured now.

"It broke through the security-glass!" Hicks told him. "The Plexiglas is supposed to be as hard as steel! How do you know that it won't eventually break through the door as well and escape?"

The seed of doubt had been planted – now Hicks needed to make it to continue to grow. Sgt. Hurst would not allow himself to be swayed though.

"That's enough!" Hurst said angrily.

"No, it's not enough!" Hicks persisted. "Don't any of you realize the danger these creatures possess? You've already seen what they're capable of – and you're under orders to bring them back to Earth! What do you think will happen if they break out and start to breed there?" Hicks could see that he was starting to get through to them. "You may be the 'Rawhides' – tough as nails, but you're still soldiers! You're under oath to protect your homeland and your people! Do you really want to be part of bringing this plague home to the planet you're striving to protect? Do you really want that on your consciousness?"

"You're talking _mutiny!_" Hurst growled.

"The decision has to be made _now!_" Hicks went on. "This has to stop before it's too late!"

"Yes, this is going to stop!" Hurst barked. "You're under arrest, and you will be put to court-martial for attempting to riot a mutiny! Seize him!" But no one moved.

"But… what are we supposed to do then?" Simpson asked, all devoid of his self-assurances as he remembered the ferocity of the creatures.

"Get rid of them! All of them!" Hicks answered. "The eggs are incarcerated. We'll jettison them out into space and let them burn in the atmosphere of the planet as they fall down. And we'll do the same with the alien in quarantine. That section can be ejected!"

"I can't believe that you're actually considering _listening_ to this 'sissy'!" Hurst said, feeling the control slipping through his fingers. "If you commit this act of treason, you'll all be _court-martialed!_"

"I'll accept all responsibility," Hicks offered the soldiers. "That way you'll go free of any action you take."

"You'll take the fall?" Cracken asked him.

"I'm willing to do anything, because it is the _right_ thing to do!"

"I never thought I ever was going to say this, 'Sissy', but then for once I'm with you."

"So am I!" said Dobermann.

"Let's get some weapons and get rid of those bastards!" Morgan seconded. Sgt. Hurst jaw fell and then he bolted towards the alarm button on the wall beside the screen. Hicks charged and tackled him down before he could reach it.

"This is _treason!_" Hurst shouted as Hicks tied him up with a rope that the corporal had in forethought decided that he might need. "I'm going to tell that you are all in on this! You're all going to fall!"

"Then I'm going to make you and the colonel to fall with me, for going rogue!" Hicks told him.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Hurst questioned him, struggling against the bounds.

"This is a secret operation, not sanctioned by the Colonial Administration! You're acting under orders of a _civilian!_ What do you think the judges of the court will say to that?"

"Mr. Weyland promised us handsome rewards!" Hurst argued on. "He promised new lives for you and the kid! She's declared dead, remember? Are you really about to throw that all away?"

"There won't be a new life for Newt if the aliens are allowed to live!" Hicks growled. "I'm doing this for _her_, so that neither she nor anyone else for that matter will ever have to be afraid of the monsters again! I'll deal with the 'dead'-situation when we get back home! Now shut up!" and with that Hicks put a gag over the sergeant's mouth. He didn't tell anyone how much he actually enjoyed doing this to the annoying drill-officer.

"Well, the reward probably does go down the drain now," Crabbe commented dejectedly. Everybody else nodded. Not all of them were entirely convinced yet.

"From what I've heard of Michael Weyland, I quite doubt that you would have seen much of it anyway," Hicks told them all. "It was just an incitement to get you to do his bidding. Since he wanted to do this as secretly as possible, I find it quite unlikely that the Company would allow you to be able to spend all that money. More likely he'd made you all disappear for the sake of plausible denial."

"He can't do that!" Shawn argued.

"Oh, you don't think so?" Hicks glared at the young Vietnamese. "He sacrificed the crew of the _Nostromo_ to get his hands on the creatures! Three years ago an accomplice to him allowed a whole civilian colony to be destroyed and my unit was deemed expendable when we went there to sort it out! I don't even need to mention what they thought of the prisoners on Fiorina 16. What makes you think that you would be treated any different from any of them?"

"But why does this old man Weyland do all this then?" Crabbe asked. "What does he want with them?"

"It's all purely egoistical. He believes the creatures can give him eternal life."

"Can they?"

"There's nothing, absolutely nothing that indicates that the creatures are some kind of a holy grail," Hicks said.

"So he's making us pay with our lives so that he can live forever, and it's only just speculations?"

"That about sums it up," Hicks confirmed.

"I'm not participating in that," Crabbe declared. "Let's go get rid of them." Everyone was in agreement, and that was something unique for the 'Rawhides', especially since they were in agreement with Hicks whom they otherwise didn't like at all. But in the face of danger and corruption, differences had tendencies to easily be set aside, especially when the group of people had been used against their own will.

* * *

Nine rouge soldiers were now heading towards the storage-room for toxic disposal were all of the alien eggs were stored. On the way there they had stopped by a weapons locker and armed themselves with weapons of their own choice. They weren't required of course: the eggs were locked with the claws and would not pose any threat. They would be easily picked up and carried to an airlock where they would be jettisoned out into space. The weapons were in case somebody who was not within their right mind would get the idea to stop them. An unlikely scenario: there weren't many people left aboard who didn't resent the creatures. It would not be any problems. At least that was the plan – when they arrived at their destination however, Hicks immediately saw that something was very wrong…

"Why is the door open?" Hicks asked, starting to feel nervous.

"Maybe somebody forgot to close it?" Private Cracken said, although not entirely convinced of his own theory.

"No way," Hicks said. "Colonel Decker checks it personally after every haul to make sure that the eggs are secured. He would never allow anyone to leave the door open. Someone unauthorized must be in there."

"Who would go in there willingly?" Cracken asked.

"Bishop?" Hicks called. "Is that you in there?" There was no answer. "Well, it's not him. Whatever differences we may have right now, he wouldn't ignore me."

Hicks turned on his motion-tracker and directed it towards the entrance to the dark storage-room. It beeped slightly. "There's a very faint movement in there… barely detectable." Hicks and Cracken looked at each other – then they simultaneously switched on the lights mounted on their rifles and carefully moved closer to the door-frame. Everybody else remained where they were, staying totally silent. The air was tense. Hicks and Cracken reached the door and they took position on each side of the dark opening in the wall. The Afro-American slowly shined his light inside the room over the floor – Hicks peeked inside, following the circle that illuminated the deck. It moved over a shape of a human. The white lab-coat revealed that it was one of the medtechs.

"That's Phillips!" said Hicks. "It's Dr. Peter's nephew! What's _he_ doing in there?" And then they saw his face – or to be more precise: what was _on_ his face! There was the source of the very faint signal that was registered on the motion-tracker. The grotesque shape of the multi-fingered hand-like parasite was wrapped around his head, the sacks on either side of the root of its tail was steadily pumping, breathing like lungs.

An icy chill crept all along his spine as Hicks came to realize the magnitude of the drama that was going on inside, and he let his own light sweep across all the eggs that were stacked within the hold. His worst fear became confirmed. But it was Cracken that gave voice to it.

"_The claws are off!_" he shouted in despair. "_That damn fool has removed the claws!_" Suddenly there was a crack in the air and something faster than the eye could see flew out of the room towards the private. Cracken flew backwards and landed like a heap on the deck as he clawed on his face which was covered by another of the terrible crablike shapes. Hicks retreated from the door, just in the nick of time as another of the monstrosities hurled itself at his face. It overshot him as Hicks ducked and it smacked into the floor of the corridor – however it scrabbled upright immediately and was about to take another leap. Hicks perforated it with his rifle. But the danger was far from over.

"_Watch out!_" he screamed. "_They're attacking!_"

The whole rouge operation had unexpectedly turned into a nightmarish calamity. From the storage-room a flock of facehuggers emerged and charged at the eight remaining soldiers. This was not supposed to happen. There was no way to suspect that somebody would stupidly have removed the egg-claws and enabled the creatures to go on a killing-spree. The soldiers who were there to dump the eggs out into space now had to fight for their lives. They all opened fire and began to blow the obscenities to pieces – but it was not enough. Two of the monsters slipped through the spray of projectiles and latched themselves onto PFC Samson and Corporal Riker. And as they went down there was a window suddenly free of weapons-fire. Before anybody had time to adjust their aims to cover it, three more parasites got to Private Shawn, PFC Simpson and Private Morgan. Only three of the soldiers remained now: the two smart-gun operators Crabbe and Dobermann, and Corporal Hicks.

"_Lay down continuous fire and let's get out of here!_" Hicks called over the noise of the smart-guns. He blew two more facehuggers to pieces as he advanced downwards the corridor from which they had come. The two soldiers moved along with him. _How many could there be left?_ Hicks wondered. _How many did that young fool manage to release?_

It looked like they could make it. They were about to move past the door that separated the sections of the ship. Right outside that door to which they were moving was where Dagger had released the first egg and fallen victim to it. Once they've managed to move past it they would close it and hopefully trap the remaining facehuggers. But as they were about to make a final run towards it, _the door closed by itself!_

"_What the hell's going on? Open it!_" Crabbe cried, close to panic. Hicks rushed up and pressed the button that was labeled 'Open', but the door remained shut. "_I'm going to kill Fixer!_" Crabbe screamed again while he continued to fire. "_I'm going to kill him! He was supposed to fix that door!_"

But Hicks started to suspect that there was nothing wrong with the door, because on the panel by it there was a red light flashing. And as he looked around, he noticed now that there were more red lights activated. They had been too busy defending themselves that they had not noticed the alarm going off again. Hicks strained to hear above the gunfire what the computer was saying:

"_Warning! Structural damage sustained to decks five to seven, sections twelve and below. Emergency! Structural integrity to lower hull has been compromised! Decompression imminent! Emergency protocol activated! Pressure-doors are closed. Emergency! Decompression imminent!_"

"Oh my god…!" Hicks whispered. _The acid!_ The corrosive liquid of the facehuggers that they have blown to pieces has eaten through both the decks under them and was now burning through the bow of the ship, and was about to open them up to space! And now the computer had automatically sealed off all the areas that was about to be exposed to vacuum, and they were trapped inside! And the worst part was that they themselves, and especially Hicks, was the cause of it!

"_Danger!_" the computer announced. "_Decompression in five seconds… four…_"

All sense of hope left Hicks in an instant. As he was faced with the final defeat, he let his rifle be lowered towards the floor as he prepared himself for the inevitable.

"_Three… two…_"

\- _Newt. Forgive me._

"_One!_"

The _Hercules_ rocked in space as a large portion of the air inside was suddenly blown out of the newly-made hole in the hull. Inside the corridor were the fight was going on, the three combatants lost their footing and was momentarily dragged towards the area outside the storage-room where the acid had eaten out pits in the floor and where the air was being sucked out. Having lost their equilibrium, and coming to the realization that they have lost precious oxygen to breathe; the soldiers unwillingly ceased firing and that left a clear path for the last of the facehuggers to catch their prey. The last thing Hicks became aware of before he lost consciousness due to lack of air was the sight of one of the terrible creatures flying towards him with its fingers widely spread apart…

* * *

It was a few minutes after the hull had exploded – the felon Robert Morse had found Sgt. Hurst tied up and gagged in the briefing room and for reasons that he wouldn't divulge, the prisoner had untied him. Hurst was now in communication with Colonel Decker and he was nowhere near his usual cocky demeanor as he spoke to his superior on the screen. Morse just stood back in the corner with his hands behind his back, looking slightly amused.

"I-it was Hicks, Sir! He staged the whole mutiny, and he managed to talk everybody in on it using lies and slander! I tried to stop him, but he overpowered me! I swear to you, Sir, I had nothing to do with…"

"_Be quiet, Hurst!_" Decker cut him off. "We have more important matters to deal with now before we start shifting blame for this sabotage! The preliminary reports say that every deck above and below section twelve has been decompressed and sealed! The air above the toxic disposal area must've escaped through the climbing-tube that connects all the decks!"

"We've been cut off from the whole fore of the ship!" Hurst realized with shock. "That includes _the bridge!_ Sir, how are we supposed to break orbit and go home?"

"Relax, you fool! I can still run the ship from my post!" Hurst let out a breath of relief. He had temporarily forgotten that the colonel's office also served as a battle bridge. "However it is the nature of our mission that concerns me now!" Decker continued. "What happened to the specimens? What can be salvaged?"

"There… there's no way to tell, Sir," Hurst stammered. "The space-suits required for going through vacuum are stored on deck six directly below section twelve, which has been depressurized. There's no way to get there!"

"Well, you better find a way, Sergeant: because I'm not breaking orbit until I know whether we can still accomplish our mission or not! I will not let mutineers break the glorious reputation of this unit!"

"B-but Sir…" Hurst started to object.

"Carry out my orders Sergeant and report back to me A.S.A.P.! That will be all!" And then Decker cut the transmission.

"But what does he expect me to do?" Hurst asked out into empty air, exasperated. "There's no way I can get into an area of hard vacuum!"

"Send the droid."

"What?"

"Send the droid," Morse repeated calmly. He still held his hands behind his back. "Surely it can survive the vacuum and be able to carry out any potential surviving specimen if necessary." Hurst was about to retort, but stopped himself. The logic behind that solution was as evident as it was brilliant, but he'll be damned if he was going to admit that to a convict! He had to swallow his pride though, and that left a bitter aftertaste.

"Just because you came up with the plan doesn't mean that you earn special privileges," Hurst made sure to tell him. "I still don't like you, so don't press your luck." And with that the sergeant left the briefing room.

"Oh, Sarge…" Morse smiled victoriously. "It's not your liking of me that I require of you." And he flexed his fingers around an object behind his back in satisfaction.

* * *

The air was pumped out of the on-the-spot makeshift airlock before Bishop was to override the security-locking mechanism on one of the doors that led to the decompressed sections of the ship. He was at the moment standing in a junction on the lowest deck. That level consisted mostly with service-tunnels leading to various key-sections on the bow of the ship, that's why each of those corridors was equipped with a door of its own. The midget mechanic Fixer had installed a hose through one of the bulkheads which he'd been forced to cut through beside a doorway that was leading to one of the joint passage-ways. By sealing the existing doors closest to the locked-out area and spraying the frames of those with special Seal-Leak foam, he had made them airtight and had in that way created the small space of the junction to serve as an airlock. With the help of a big air-pump outside one of the hatches, the junction was now being depressurized which would help equalizing the connecting area with the vacuum that had formed in the exposed sections. Since bishop was built within an armor that was designed to withstand most environmental conditions, he was not affected as the pressure dropped. He would be able to move through the vacuum like a walk in the park. If only this could've been just as joyful as that…

Bishop's internal sensors informed him that all the air was now removed from the junction. He opened an access-panel to the sealed door and rerouted some of the electrical cables. He managed to reverse the power and the locking-clamps were released. Bishop pushed the door open and entered the airless and cold area. The warmth had escaped together with the oxygen and the temperature in the decompressed area was continuously dropping rapidly. Aside from that: at first sight everything looked absolutely normal. The only weird, but expected damage were the many holes in the floor. Melted holes – caused by acid! Each of the holes was small and in various sizes, but no size ever mattered if there became a crack in the hull which the air could escape through. Big or small: the tiniest hole could doom an entire spaceship if not isolated and sealed in time. The _Hercules'_ security computer has managed to save the ship by closing off the areas that was to be exposed to the vacuum – unfortunately it couldn't save the people that still had been trapped within those corridors.

Bishop found the climbing-tube that housed the ladder for climbing up to the decks above. It was practical as a direct route to get from the lowest to the top deck quickly, but unfortunately it was through this chute that all the air on the levels above him had escaped. Bishop's destination was two decks up. His assignment was to investigate if any of the xenomorphic subjects they had hauled up from the planet below had survived the sudden decompression. As he was an artificial being, he expressed no certain emotions about the fate of the eggs. It made no difference to him whether they had survived or not, although he knew that mankind would benefit if it turned out that all of the subjects had been destroyed. Bishop didn't even let himself be affected by the fact that there were several bodies waiting for him on deck five whom had perished from lack of air. He had already come to terms with the fact that the crew of the Hercules would inevitably die one way or another – he hadn't expected that it would happen so soon though. As Bishop had expected when he got out of the climbing-tube on level five, he found every soldier sprawled all over the deck in the airless area of section twelve. What he definitely hadn't expected was to find that every soldier lying there were still alive!

They were still casualties though. Each and one of them had their face covered with a facehugger - it had to be the reason as to why neither of them was dead. The parasites blocked both mouth and noses completely and Bishop knew that there was a tube-like intestine forced down each of the victims' throats. It was the creatures who supplied the soldiers with oxygen – if they hadn't; all the alveoli in the soldiers lungs would be ruptured now by exposure to the vacuum. But from where did the creatures get the oxygen? There were no gases at all in this vacuum that the facehuggers could extract it from. Bishop could only come up with one possible theory: as all carbon-based life-forms inhales air that has been produced by plants to oxygenate their blood, they all exhale carbon dioxide which a flower in turn absorbs. It was the symmetry of life – none of the two breeds would be able to survive without the other.

And in some ways the facehuggers are characteristic to a plant: it breaks down gases and converts those to whatever the host needs to breathe – that way the parasites can ensure that the embryo implanted will be able to grow accordingly. It also appeared that the symbiotic creatures provided the hosts with _heat_ as well! Bishop's internal sensors confirmed it. The environment was presently chilling because of the vacuum, but the victims showed no sign of being affected by it. The cold of the vacuum should have sucked all moisture from their exposed skin, but it remained to look normal. Some of those weird intricate tubes of the parasite must serve as natural heat-elements.

From a scientific point of view, it was fascinating – remarkable! It was too bad that the species was so ferocious. It wasn't meant to preserve the life of the host indefinitely, but to make a grand healthy vessel for the embryo implanted to develop within as a cocoon, until it was ready to emerge. And when that happened, it meant the death of the carrier in a violent and messy manner.

In a sense, it would be a more humane thing to just leave the victims where they presently were. As this section for the time being would contain nothing but vacuum, the facehuggers couldn't leave the host as it would mean immediate death for them, and a premature expiration of the host could cause damage to the embryo. And there was one basic necessity that Bishop was certain that the facehuggers were not capable of providing: sustenance! He remembered Ripley's report on how her crewmember Kane had acted after the alien had dislodged itself from him: he had been as good as famished, which indicated that the embryo was feeding on nutrients from the host's body while developing. The facehuggers couldn't leave their victims in the vacuum which in theory meant that the embryos couldn't gestate while it remained dependent on the ambulatory delivery-organ. And while the soldiers remained unconscious they wouldn't be able to eat anything – they would eventually starve to death. It would be a prolonged ending, but they would die without having to endure the agony of the creature's birth.

Unfortunately Bishop's programming prevented that outcome. Not only was he compelled to provide as much care as he could for any human being in need of aid, which meant that he couldn't just leave them in the vacuum with the parasites on their faces – but under Company-orders he were also to save as many specimens as possible. Again his priorities conflicted against each-other and almost caused his circuits to overload – he wondered how much longer he would be able to work around the system before he'd eventually break down completely.

Among the victims, not at all unexpectedly, he found Hicks. Just like the rest of his co-conspirators in this mutiny, his face was covered with a facehugger, being cocooned. Although he was an artificial being, Bishop allowed himself to feel a moment of sadness for Hicks' fate. There was no way to save him now: the facehugger couldn't be removed without resulting in his death, and Bishop very much doubted that a surgical removal of the embryo from within his torso would result in a different outcome. Once this species had gotten hold of a victim, death was unavoidable. The only thing anybody could do now was to determine just how the unavoidable fate would be allowed to progress. Bishop sat down on his knees beside his fallen comrade and placed his hand on Hicks' chest. With his acute sensors, he could detect the presence of the embryo within the thorax – it had been positioned.

It was time for a decision, and it made Bishop feel guilty that he would conduct this action without Hicks' consent. He would most likely not approve. But Bishop knew that there were times that would become present when the need for advantages was sometimes greater than the need for following ethics. The android knew that this was one of those times, even if it went against his directive to protect humans. That's why he used the Company command-codes that had been installed to temporarily overrule his implanted behavioral inhibitor. From a hidden compartment in the armor he was built in, Bishop produced a syringe which contained a vile-looking fluid – the same substance that he had extracted from one of the organs of the dissected alien back in the science-lab. Bishop hesitated for a moment, even trembled momentarily as the directives made war with his programming again – but then his sub-routines surrendered as the Company-program took over and Bishop stabbed the syringe into Hicks' chest right where the embryo was positioned. And Bishop injected the contents…

What's done has been done. There was no turning back now. Since Bishop had been designed to resemble humans psychically as well as physically, he prayed that he had done the right thing. Time would have to be the judge of that, but now there was other work to be done. He picked up the body of the first victim to carry back to the makeshift airlock…


	18. Bishop's program

"_Two?!_ Is that _all?!_" Colonel Decker was most displeased, and from his position it was perfectly understandable. Bishop had spent hours evacuating the ten victims from the decompressed area into the undamaged sections of the _Hercules_, but he was also to save the eggs that were left in the vault for toxic waste where they had been stored. It had turned out that there were only two left of the original forty-eight collected that still had their claws attached to them. The rest had been removed by Dr. Peter's nephew Phillips before one of the facehuggers had attached itself to him. And of those specimens released, it looked like that none except the ones who had attacked the nine soldiers and the medtech assistant had survived. It appeared that the other creatures had been shot to pieces or perhaps even been sucked out into space when the hull had blown. For the colonel this was a catastrophe: his mission had been to obtain as many specimens as possible and now they had all been lost, save for two. Worse from his point of view, there were no crewmembers left to go down to the surface of LV-426 to get the other ninety-nine eggs that still waited in the derelict. The infested soldiers were at this moment locked up in the brig, arrested for mutiny and sabotage. From Colonel Decker's position he had severely failed his mission and that was what made him so enraged. But he had every intention of shifting the blame.

"Who's responsible for this?" Decker asked from the view-screen. He once again addressed Sgt. Hurst and Bishop via television-communication from his office to the briefing-room. Why he wouldn't talk to them personally in his office was not declared, and none of the two asked.

"I have reviewed the security-footage of section twelve," Bishop started to explain. "It was Dr. Peter's nephew Phillips who broke in to the vault and started to…"

"And just who gave you permission to access those security-logs, _Robot?_" Decker cut him off brusquely. Bishop fell silent, feeling slightly indignant. He was really tired of Decker's scoffs of always referring to him as a simple automaton.

"I… I did, Sir," Hurst stammered. "I thought it would be more efficient if I had the android go through the footage to backtrack what happened while I supervised the imprisonment for the traitors…"

"You could have done that while the robot dragged out the traitors from the vacuum!" Decker scolded the sergeant. "Keep it off the military equipment, is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Did you interrogate that runt for a medtech?"

"Yes, Sir, but he refused to give away anything," Hurst said. "He only babbled something about that he would be rewarded for what he did."

"Interrogate him again!" Decker snarled. "_Harder_ this time!"

"We can't," Bishop said plainly.

"_Do you question my orders, Robot?_"

"No, Colonel. I'm saying: we can't, because he is dead. He was infested some time before the others arrived at the scene. He only regained consciousness in his cell for a short while for us to question him, but then the creature emerged. Dr. Peters is quite upset right now; he doesn't know how to explain to his sister about her son's death."

"That is not my concern! Where is the creature now?"

"It's still in Phillips' cell. But it will only remain there during its adolescence. After that it will break out and be loose on the ship. That cell-door will never hold it, and I can guarantee you that the rest will follow."

"How long will it be until we can estimate the major break-out?" Decker asked.

Bishop made an attempt to shrug, but the armor he was built in could not mimic such movement as it was to bulky. "There's no way to tell. I have no idea what goes on in their minds. The first one can even now break out at any time, but maybe it decides to wait until the others are born. And since each of them seems to have an individual gestation-cycle I cannot estimate when they're all ready to emerge. Back in the colony of LV-426 there was one of them who took weeks to come out, it finally did just in time for Sgt. Apone's team to witness it."

"Sir, what are we going to do?" Hurst asked with a trembling voice. "We can't have them loose on the ship!"

"How long will it take for you to decompress all surrounding sections of the detention block?" Decker asked without taking notice of Hurst's nervousness. The question took the sergeant a little by surprise.

"I… would have to seal of the sections manually from main engineering and direct the air out of the ventilation shafts. But Sir, there's some delicate equipment stored in some of those sections that we can't risk losing…"

"Spare me the details! How long will it take?"

"Two hours at most…"

"You've got one hour!" Decker said straight out, leaving no room for argument. "Have the felon Morse to collect the equipment we need to clear out, and then you will depressurize all sections around the brig to trap the creatures within an air-bubble surrounded by vacuum. Your job, _Robot_, is to make sure that the creatures stay there until we suck the air out – and while you're at it: interrogate the prisoners for an explanation of their actions! Tell them that they will revoke the Colonial insurance policies for their respective beneficiaries if they don't cooperate and admit their treachery!"

"Yes, Colonel." Bishop replied.

"Yes, Sir!" Hurst said and saluted.

"Report back to me in one hour!" Decker said shortly and cut the connection. As soon as the screen went blank, Hurst lost his military carriage and his shoulders became slouched. His strict attitude as a drill-sergeant which earlier was his greatest strength was something he no longer was able to uphold.

"We've lost our entire team and all the colonel keeps babbling about is the mission!" The sergeant swallowed uneasily. "What the hell have we gotten ourselves into? It has all gotten out of hand but all he cares about is…" Hurst found no strength to finish his sentence.

"This is exactly what we faced three years ago when we first came here," Bishop said calmly. "I really had hoped that we would've managed to make you aware of this, but sadly nobody was interested in listening."

"We're not here to listen." Hurst said in an attempt to straighten himself up. "We're here to do our job as soldiers!"

"Your job might've not become so disastrous had you been willing to take into account the experiences that we had of previous encounters with these creatures."

"Is that a robot's way of saying: I told you so?"

"It's my way of saying that I had really hoped that this would've turned out differently."

"Act like a saint if you like," Hurst snorted. "My one consolation though is that none of this will be on my ass when this is over. That's the only thing that drives me now." And with that he left to carry out his assignment. Bishop looked after him with what looked like a neutral expression on his face, but his insides was in a more solemn mode.

"But yet you forget, Sergeant: this _isn't_ over yet."

* * *

Every ship within the Colonial Marine Corps had a holding area with one or two cells, but the _Hercules_ was the only one who had a whole section of one deck converted into a detention block with up to twenty small cells. Although the 'Rawhides' usually dealt with their adversaries with hostile force, it did occur sometimes that they took prisoners when they were ordered to do so, either military or political connected. Those prisoners that were taken captive by the 'Rawhides' were not treated after the Geneva Convention as Colonel Decker was an old-fashioned military. He was not above treating prisoners roughly if that was required to squeeze certain information out of them. The cold cells were completely bare save for some hard benches to sit and sleep on – there were no cushions or blankets provided. The food was bad if they were lucky to get any at all, and the air was quickly becoming foul as the buckets used for the latrine needs were seldom emptied. But the worst for prisoners aboard the _Hercules_ was the trips: while the regular crew went into hibernation during the long journeys, the prisoners were left in their cells, without anything to help them pass the time. There were many prisoners reported having gone raving mad: some always ended up swallowing their own clothes whole to choke themselves to death in a desperate attempt to escape.

Half of the twenty cells were at this moment occupied, but these people were not prisoners of war: they had been incarcerated because they just like Private Dagger before them were quarantined. And the decease they carried was incurable. Death was impending for each and one of them.

As expected, the situation had changed even more dramatically after Bishop had carried the casualties out of the decompressed area and helped putting them in the cells. When he first had left the detention block to deliver his report to Colonel Decker, young medtech assistant Phillips who had released the aliens was already dead. The rest had still been unconscious. But now as he got back he heard the sounds of some of the soldiers wailing and sobbing, some of them even screamed continuous curses at the one corporal who had led them to their doom. Bishop could see through the observation-ports in the doors that two more creatures had emerged while he had been away. The pilot Riker and PFC Morgan had perished to a violent death. The creatures were still in there though; right now they were growing.

Bishop took a moment to watch with fascination as one of the chest-bursters shed its white-yellowish translucent skin to reveal the flesh underneath. The fascia around the muscles seemed to bubble and then the pale woven tissue divided along the 'seams' – instantly new sinew generated to bridge the gaps that had formed which resulted in that the flesh had increased in mass. Bishop knew that he was witnessing a cell-division in a macroscopic scale and it would continue to rapidly do so until the creature had reached its full size. The android diverted his attention to the other prison-cell were the other creature had developed much farther ahead. It was already nearly as big as human and a clear viscous perspiration poured slowly from its veins. It was not acid - it seemed to harden as it flowed over the woven tissue like a painter applying varnish, and the sealing-wax increased in color, becoming darker. Soon it would be a silicon-based chitin layer which was the alien's skin. To any other man the process would probably turn their stomachs if they saw this, but Bishop found it exhilarating to watch. He made sure to file all of what he had seen into the documentation recorder that was still attached via his receptacle to his cranial circuits.

He tore his gaze away from the show of Meta-morphemic development, knowing he had other priorities to attend to. Still he took a moment to throw a glance into Phillip's cell. The alien in there was almost fully grown now and this one's appearance was like it was supposed to look, unlike Dagger's crazed and misshaped creature sealed inside the quarantine section. But just like that one in the beginning after it's 'birth', this one remained curled up in the corner as if asleep. But that wasn't the case… Probably sensing that it was watched, the alien warrior raised its elongated head slightly and looked back at the android in turn, but it made no other move. It was strange: this creature could break out of the cell at any time without anyone being able to stop it, but it stayed put where it was. The reason for that totally eluded Bishop. Yet he decided that he would have to think about it later, and instead went to the cell that had been his primary goal. The occupant of the cell was conscious, but unlike the others he didn't wail or pacing around the small room with frustration or fear. Instead he sat on his bench leaning against the wall beside the door, just staring into the corner.

"Although I am a synthetic with quite a large vocabulary at my disposal, not even I can find the proper words to say in a moment like this," the android said with a hint of remorse in his voice. The occupant of the cell didn't move, didn't even turn his head as he gave the reply.

"What's there to say, except that I screwed up?" Hicks said dismissively in a clearly subdued tone. "I only wanted to do the right thing, Bishop. I only wanted to free us from the alien threat. Instead I lead all of us to our doom."

"How were you to know that Phillips had broken into vault and freed the eggs?" Bishop said.

"It doesn't change a thing," Hicks answered still in a subdued tone. "I took command of the team. I led them there. It was my responsibility to assess any kind of threat we could face and I failed - failed big time."

An agitated voice suddenly echoed through the corridor of the detention block. "_This is your fault, you Sissy!_" Cracken raged from inside his own cell. "_Why the hell did I listen to you? I'm going to chase you through the seven hells to get you for this! I swear it! Mark my words!_"

"He's right." Hicks sighed. "It is my fault. I deserve nothing less than to die for condemning those men."

"Hicks, this isn't the right time for you to just give up," Bishop said.

"Isn't it?" Hicks laughed bitterly. "What else can I do? I'm a dead man, Bishop – and not just bureaucratically, but also soon literally."

"You're not dead yet," the other persisted.

"It won't be long. I've already listened to two of these men dying, and a piece of me dies with them for each time it happens… because _I'm_ responsible. I don't know what is worse: sitting here listening to them dying or knowing that it will be my turn soon…"

Suddenly another blood-chilling scream filled the corridor. It was first heard as painful gasps until it stretched out in a long agony-filled shriek that was abruptly cut off and momentarily replaced with another inhuman roar of a new-born monster. Hicks slammed his head back against the wall and grimaced in despair. "That was Shawn now, wasn't it?" he asked in a tight voice.

Bishop looked down the corridor. "Yes," he said, confirming the young Vietnamese's demise. His youth made it feel a whole lot worse for Hicks – Shawn should have his whole life ahead of him, but now he had died meaninglessly because of him. It was another death on his conscience. He slammed his hand against the bench.

"I won't have this!" Hicks now roared. "In the very least, a soldier should be granted the chance to go out in _dignity!_ Bishop, you're going to have to get me a gun!"

"What do you want with a gun?" Bishop asked.

"Ripley told me three years ago that she didn't want to end up like the poor souls in the colony. I made a promise back then that if it would come to it, I would do us both in. The least I can do is to grant the same mercy to these men and then to myself."

"Hicks, all the weapons are locked up as per standard military regulations. Colonel Decker made sure that those rules are followed with a convicted felon aboard, there's no way I can get one."

"You're going to have to come up with something!" Hicks persisted. He still hadn't turned around on his bench. "You are a resourceful android, aren't you? For whatever friendship we have left, grant me at least this mercy!"

"But you won't die… yet."

"I could be next to die any time now, Bishop!"

"You still got hours left, Hicks. You might perhaps have even days."

"How do you know that?"

"Hicks, during my research of the carcass of the alien worker we hauled up here I've manage to isolate a special compound – the 'royal jelly' that they use to create a queen. It contains certain nutrients that will change the composition of an embryo and make it a female. I also have a theory that the special substance can also be used to change the DNA-code in a human being to metamorphose him into an egg. That had to be what the alien worker aboard the _Nostromo_ was doing to Captain Dallas and engineer Brett in order to create a new society…"

"That's all lovely theories, Bishop," Hicks interrupted in annoyance. "…but what does that have to with me dying?"

The android made a show of composing himself, even though the corporal couldn't see it. "While you were unconscious, I injected the jelly into your embryo. I have reason to believe that it worked like it was supposed to."

"YOU WHAT!?" Hicks finally scrambled up from his bench and faced the android through the observation-port in the door. "_What the hell are you saying? Are you telling me that you made this thing inside me into a QUEEN?!_"

"I did," Bishop confessed. "It develops at a much slower rate than ordinary drones. Ripley carried hers for several days until…"

"_How the hell could you do this?!_" Hicks raged, slamming his hands on the door. "_What were you thinking?! How could you even come up with the outrageous idea to create an ultimate monster and then to use me as an experimental subject for it?! Was it all for your ludicrous scientific curiosity or what?!_"

"I did it to win _time!_" Bishop shot back at him. "You're no good to attempt to stop this disaster if you're dead and we desperately need an advantage! To create a queen was the only logical course of action to take, no matter how an unethical move it may be."

"Stop the disaster?" Hicks questioned the android. "You who have played a major role to make sure that this mission succeed; now you suddenly want to stop it? Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"I keep telling you, Hicks, I tried to save all of your lives by going along with it. But it has gone beyond that point now… The aliens can't be controlled with what we have at our disposal and I can no longer save your lives – but we can still save Newt!"

Hicks finally calmed down as he heard the girl's name being mentioned. "Go on," he demanded of the android.

"Not just her of course, but also every other innocent that may fall victim to the aliens. We both know that the mission is to bring the specimens back to the Company's main research laboratory on Earth. We can't let that happen, Hicks."

"I've been trying to prevent that from _the start_, Bishop." Hicks snapped at him. "But you _stopped_ me!"

"I'll say it again, Hicks: I went along in accordance to my programming in hopes that I would discover the means necessary to contain the aliens – Michael Weyland would've gotten his specimens and the whole crew of the _Hercules_ and the two of you would have gotten out of this alive. It was a logical win-win situation for all of us! Your attempts to destroy the derelict would have ruined the chance to find the solution. My methods to stop you were rough, I'll admit that, but I was under the obedience of the directive Michael Weyland had Fixer install in me. However the aliens can't be contained – my research has proved that. I know what we must do now, but the problem is that I can't act by it. The directive installed compels me to continue the primary mission."

Bishop's voice now trailed off a bit as if he'd been fighting a losing battle. "I need your help, Hicks. I can't fend off the directive anymore; I have expended all the side-roads that were available to me. The only course of action I could take was to inject the jelly into your embryo to buy a little more time and to add a little more protection to us. No other alien will do you any harm now while you're carrying a queen."

"And what exactly is the main purpose of your only course of action?" Hicks asked him. "I need you to tell me straight out so that I know that you are fully sincere with me now! What do you want to do and how do you expect me to help you? In case you haven't noticed, I'm locked up in here."

Bishop sounded very determined as he answered Hicks' question. "If we can't contain the aliens then we will have to destroy them. That includes everyone aboard this ship and the ones inside the derelict on the surface. Otherwise the whole population of earth will be in peril. But I can't get you out of there to do it unless I can break this programming Weyland installed in me. That's why I'm here, Hicks, can _you_ help me now?"

"Not me personally…" Hicks said. "…but maybe Fixer can. Go to him. Tell him that there's a slight possibility that your systems may be corrupted based on the information you just shared with me. Maybe he can fix you up and perhaps sort out your priorities."

Bishop smiled. "Thank you, Hicks. I could not make that decision by myself. I will go see him immediately."

* * *

In the aft-section of the ship, drill-sergeant Hurst also had a hard time making the right decisions. It was hard enough to do a task within a short time-frame even with a full crew-complement, but to do it alone…

"One hour," he muttered. "How does the colonel expect me to do this in one hour?" And of that hour, twenty minutes had already been spent in a fruitless attempt to find the felon Morse to order him to clear out the delicate equipment from the areas that Hurst had been ordered to depressurize. Hurst was angry. It would be on his permanent record for losing that equipment, but there no longer were any time to clear it out. He had to start with the preparations to decompress the surrounding sections of the detention block now or there would be hell to pay. When he found Morse next time, Hurst would skin the prisoner alive.

The sergeant arrived to the main engineering. While navigation systems, computers and other automated systems essential for the survival of the crew was run from the bridge, (and from the secondary computers in Colonel Decker's office,) hardware equipment of the ship's functions like ventilation, power distribution and engine maintenance were handled from the aft section. From here Hurst would seal off entire corridors surrounding the detention block and pump out the air. When that was done the aliens would be trapped until they could be delivered to the Company representatives. However as he entered main engineering, Hurst found that there were already a person present.

"You!" he raged. "What are you doing in here? You are not authorized to be in this area!"

The prisoner Robert Morse was not the least intimidated by the sergeant's outburst. Instead he turned towards the officer with a strange smile on his face and his hands behind his back. "I sincerely doubt that your command authority apply here anymore, Sergeant," the shaggy-looking man countered in a mocking tone.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Your mission has failed, Sarge," Morse told him. "The creatures have got the upper hand now and you know it. This is no longer a retrieval mission, it has elevated to another level: this is now a fight for the survival of the fittest. And we both know which species is the ultimate survivor, don't we?"

Hurst did not at all like what the prisoner was insinuating; therefore he let his military training do the argument. "The enemy won't get the upper hand unless we _let_ them get it!"

"Truer words were never spoken," Morse said still with a smile and he brought his hands forward from behind his back. There was a gun in his right hand.

"Where did you get that?" Hurst sputtered in surprise. There should be no way that the prisoner would get a hold of a weapon. They were all locked up when not in use, a regulation that was during this mission even more important to follow since they had a prisoner aboard.

"You let me get the upper hand, Sarge." Morse's smile became even wider and more mocking. Hurst's eyes were obscured by the dark lenses of his shades that he always wore on his face, but they went wide behind them as he instinctively reached down to his holster as the realization of the felon's words hit him. His fear was confirmed as he discovered that his holster was empty – it was _his_ gun that the other possessed, most likely lifted when Morse had freed him from his bonds earlier. Hurst had failed to notice the absence of the weapon's weight as he had been preoccupied with all the other crises. As the seriousness of the situation hit him as a sledgehammer, Hurst adopted in a last desperate attempt his most commanding attitude that he used when drilling the troopers to order the felon to surrender the weapon.

"Give it to me!" he said harshly.

"That will be my pleasure," Morse answered and straightened his arm that held the weapon. Their respective interpretation of Hurst's command totally differed from the other.

"Nooo!" Hurst managed to cry out before three bullets violently pierced his chest and claimed his life.

* * *

"I can't remove the directive," Fixer said apologetically. "I don't have the necessary equipment here to do that." The small mechanic was continuously tapping the keys on his computer as he delivered the information, searching through the files. Just like when Bishop was being rebuilt, the android now sat with several wires connected to his cranial receptacles that re-routed his software into Fixer's workstation.

"Yet I'm certain that you can think of something," Bishop said calmly. "You do have that innovative streak in you that always have been your greatest advantage in engineering."

"I wish that I shared that confidence that you seem to have in me," Fixer said nervously. He was nowhere near the cheerful person that he had been in the first days. With all the horrors he had seen and having got the full grasp of the danger that this mission presented, he right now feared for his life.

"Can't you sever the program-links to the file?"

"The directive has integrated itself too much with your basic subroutines. To try to isolate and quarantine the file would corrupt your systems. I would require a reboot-disc for it, but it was not possible to make one with an EEV's flight-recorder serving as your hard-drive. Black boxes are not meant to be tampered with – that's the reason why I can't remove the program."

"Can't you write a routine that can go past it?" Bishop asked.

"Can't be done!" Fixer exclaimed with a tone of hopelessness. "The directive will demand access to it to grant a new routine to take effect and then the purpose would be for naught. No, the fact is: We can neither remove it nor quarantine it – we can't even ignore it!" Fixer put his forehead in his hands that he supported with his elbows on the workbench, trying to collect his thoughts. After a short while, he raised his head again looking like he'd just got an idea. "We can't isolate it… but maybe we can _outsmart_ it!"

"What do you have in mind?" Bishop asked.

"Call me crazy, but I am going to upload this directive of Weyland's into one of your other systems!"

"What good could that do?" Bishop sounded skeptical of the idea.

"Think about it: this directive was meant to make your programmed obedience to the Company to take precedence over all of your other incorporated priorities! You are obliged to do the Company's wishes no matter what!" Fixer's hands flew over the keyboard quite quickly now. "But if I upload this directive into your implanted behavioral inhibitor and update it, it will once again become equal with your other basic patterns and allow your own incorporated priorities to assume control again! It will be like before I uploaded the directive into you!"

"You mean that I can once again rank my wish to save lives as a top priority and I can use the Company's directive as leverage to do it?"

"Precisely! And the directive that controls your obedience to the Company can't act against it because it will identify the priority to be supported by a friendly program – in this case: the same program!"

"I knew that you would find a solution, Fixer."

It took a few minutes, but soon the upload of the program was completed and Bishop felt as he had been reborn yet again. Now he had full control of his mind and could do what he wanted to do.

"Well done, my friend," Bishop said.

"You know, this will most likely cost me my job," Fixer answered him sounding slightly dejected.

"But it is morally right, take consolation in that. I will go and free Hicks now and then we will set a new plan to work."

As Bishop turned towards the door he saw something that he had completely missed when he had first entered. On a workbench over the far corner of the workshop sat Newt, completely silent. She wasn't looking at any of them. In fact she wasn't looking at anything particular at all.

"How long has she been there?" Bishop asked the mechanic. "I thought she was still in sick-bay?"

"I found her sitting against the wall just outside here a few hours ago." Fixer explained. "I don't know if she's been kicked out of there again or if she left on her own accord. She hasn't said a word to me – she just sits there doing nothing. I'm really worried about her."

Bishop walked up to the unmoving child. "Are you all right, Rebecca?" It was deliberately that he used her birth-name when addressing her to see what kind of reaction he would get. He got none whatsoever – it was like talking to a statue. Her gaze was solely directed to an invisible spot before her.

"Did you talk to Dr. Peters about her being here?"

"If you ask me, I think _he_ is the reason why she left in the first place!" Fixer said exasperated. "He kept babbling about what had happened to his nephew and to the people who got stuck in the vacuum!"

"She _knows,_" Bishop concluded, fully understanding the girl's silence. Newt's worst nightmare had come true again: one of the people she had come to rely on the most had been infested with one of the monsters that had destroyed her life. And her response was to slip back into her catatonia that she had been in when they'd found her in the deserted colony the first time three years ago.

"I'm sorry, Newt. It's not at all the best conditions to have you to face, but I have no choice. I have to spring Hicks and bring him here despite the organism that resides within him." The girl remained unresponsive, but she was clearly not deaf to what was being said. Her expression did not change, but Bishop saw that her eyes began to brim. The android felt ashamed for causing her this pain - a simulated feeling, but one he would not want to be without. Knowing that he could waste no more time, he left the workshop and went back to the detention block. The door slid shut behind him.

Although Newt was there with him, Fixer found himself feeling all alone in the work shop. It was an unpleasant feeling during the circumstances as there was nothing to preoccupy his mind from the gnawing dread he had felt ever since section twelve had been depressurized. He wondered what he was doing in this part of space anyway. Why did he ever agree to go along this journey? It couldn't be just because he was ordered to go by one of Mr. Weyland's henchmen – had it something to do with him feeling adventurous? Fixer swore that if he got out of this alive, he would never complain about his boring life back at the developing facility again. Oh, how he wished that he was back there now safely on Earth without having a stone-cold military officer pushing him around or having those horrible monsters breeding around the corner.

Looking over at the girl again he wondered how ever she had managed to have coped with all this horror. But then he realized that she probably hadn't. That's why she was so quiet and unresponsive now. She had drifted so far back into her mind to spare herself from the nightmare of the real world that it didn't seem likely that she was willing to come back.

Just to preoccupy himself with something, Fixer ignited his welding torch to repair a broken panel.

"Newt, don't look into the light," The mechanic cautioned the child. She didn't acknowledge him in any way, but the warning had to be delivered just for safety. Fixer put on a protective mask, welded the plate and was quickly done. Holding the heated metal in a couple of tongs, the little man brought it over to a vat of stainless steel that was filled with water. Vapor rose from the vat when the panel was dipped, the water bubbled and sizzled. The panel wasn't quite cool as Fixer brought it out of the water, the remaining dampness quickly evaporated from the surface – but it was easier to handle now.

Newt maybe was unresponsive, but what neither Bishop nor Fixer knew was that her senses were still on alert. And her senses now told her that something was wrong. The vat in which Fixer had dipped the heated panel was calm again, but her ears which had become more acute since her solitude in her colony still received the sound of something sizzling. Straining her hearing to localize the sound, her eyes moved towards the direction the sizzling seemed to be coming from – and it came from a small ventilation duct from the corner close to the roof. A grille covered the duct, but from between the steel-meshes that formed the grating, pale finger-like digits were sticking out as if a hand were squeezing the meshes apart from the inside – a hand with _eight_ fingers! Smoke formed around the fingers as the sizzling continued and the child's small form was instantly filled with terror. _A facehugger was melting through the grille!_

"FIXER!" the girl screamed. The small mechanic spun around in surprise of hearing the child's voice and saw how her gaze seemed transfixed on the upper corner. He instantly became aware of the danger they were in as the loathsome arachnid thing broke through the grille and flew into the room, coming straight towards _him_!

Newt would never know from where she suddenly got her sudden instinct to take action – her usual fear for the aliens always prevented her from doing that. But without thinking as she saw the horseshoe-shaped crab charging against one of the few people whom she could call her friend, she grabbed hold of a big pliers-tool, jumped off the table and swung it like a baseball-bat at the flying menace. She hit it in mid-air right before Fixer's nose and sent it flying in a different direction right into a stack of two-meter long metal-pipes standing against the wall. The pipes tipped and crashed down over the facehugger, burying it.

"Wow," Fixer said as he let out a breath of relief, sounding immensely impressed. "I think you got it."

"No," Newt replied with a shivering voice. "That was not enough to kill it." And as proof to her statement, the pile of pipes quivered and the facehugger crawled free. It didn't charge against them though, instead it scuttled away under the many workbenches in the shop.

"Let's get out of here," Newt said, gulping for air.

"Right away," Fixer agreed and they both went for the door while their eyes remained fixed against the tables, searching for movements. Reaching it, Fixer slammed his palm against the button that would open the way to their escape. But nothing happened. Fixer hit the button repeatedly, but the door remained shut.

"Don't tell me the door is _locked!_" Newt exclaimed.

"I don't understand!" Fixer said perplexed. "It shouldn't be! The controls are dead! It's like the power has been cut!"

"I can't _believe_ it!" Newt shut her eyes tightly in frustration. "I can't believe that this is happening to me _again!_"

* * *

Author's notes: For those who wonders about the 'royal jelly', I can only repeat what I said in the notes in the first chapter: I'm basically following the novels of the films and in there there was a discussion between Bishop and Ripley on how the Alien make-up was compared to a bee-society. In the beginning before Alien3 was made, there were no such thing a Queen egg until the workers decides to make one adding the special jelly. It was more logical to add that to what the Alien in the first movie was doing to the _Nostromo's_ crew. (As seen in the deleted scenes that are added in the director's cut-versions of the movie.) Sure, it has then thereafter been proved that Queen eggs do occur, but that's no reason to exclude other methods for the aliens to expand their hives - evolutions finds ways.

So why this trouble with the 'royal jelly'? It will play another part in the future chapters, but I also wanted to get around to explain how Hicks could have been impregnated with a queen. It would be too farfetched and totally unbelievable if all major characters in every story always automatically wound up with a queen - hell, even _Superman_ in the Superman vs Aliens comic-story wound up with one.


	19. Morse's Agenda

Now that Michael Weyland's directive had been set to serve Bishop's decisions instead of the other way around, there was no longer any problem for the synthetic to open the door to Hicks' cell.

"Did you get any weapons?" Hicks asked as he stepped out.

"There was no time to get any," Bishop explained. "As per orders from Colonel Decker, Sgt. Hurst is about to depressurize all the surrounding corridors to the detention block to keep the aliens secured here. We have to go now, or we will be trapped with them."

"But what about the others?" No matter what Hicks felt for the 'Rawhides', he couldn't just abandon them to their fate even thought there were only two left. Three more creatures had emerged while Bishop had been with Fixer: only Dobermann and Simpson were still alive.

"I understand how you feel, Hicks, but there's really nothing you can do for them now," Bishop tried to reason with the corporal. "They're unconscious. The only thing you can do is to pray for them that they remain so until their time – but we have to go _now!_" Bishop finally managed to drag Hicks out of the detention area and they hurried to get away from there. But after a few meters ahead, Hicks hesitated once more.

"Wait! What about the _aliens?_ Do you really think that they will stay put?

"Off hand, I'd say…" The distinct sound of a door being torn off its hinges and thrown to the floor was heard. "…no!"

"Amazing that they waited this long until one of them broke out."

"It was not a coincidence," Bishop told him. "Actually they remained where they were because of you."

"Me?"

"I figured it out on my way back here once I was able to think more clearly after my visit to Fixer. You're carrying a queen, Hicks. The drones stayed put because they were guarding _you_, to protect their unborn queen."

"But that means that they will come _after_ us in order to protect it!"

"That's why I hope that I timed this correctly. Let us be on our way quickly!" Bishop urged him. They reached the end of the corridor, and once they were through the door Bishop closed and locked it. "We made it!" Bishop said with a hint of relief. "If my calculations are correct, Hurst should start to decompress the corridors behind us right about… now!"

They waited to hear the computerized voice to boom over the P.A.-systems to warn them about the corridors being depressurized. They waited for a whole minute…

"Nothing's happening!" Hicks stated.

"Wait," Bishop replied. But after a few more seconds they both looked at each other, confusion evident on their faces...

"Come to think of it…" Hicks said. "…the computer said nothing about the breakout back at detention! It should have noticed that when that door was ripped off!"

"Something's gone very wrong!" Bishop admitted.

"Do you think we should head down to main engineering?"

"I think we should."

* * *

Newt's eyes darted back and forth repeatedly over the work shop searching for movement. She was trembling all over, remembering how she had been in the exact same condition of being locked inside another room three years earlier with a facehugger lurking around. Back then the child had been trapped together with Ripley, but the adult was not around this time. Although Newt was willing to put her trust in the little man Fixer, she honestly didn't think that he was competent enough to fight this thing. He was only a mechanic, not a warrior like Ripley. She wouldn't tell him that of course - this was no time to lose any heads. She therefore had to try to rely on her own experiences.

The work shop was window-less - no glass to break. And there were no big air-ducts on the floor-level to escape through. The door was the only way in or out and it was locked. She wondered who had done it this time. Who would want to hurt her? Last time it had been Carter Burke who'd done it in an attempt to smuggle some creatures back to Earth – but although these new military people were bad, she couldn't imagine why they wanted to do this, especially since they themselves had recently got impregnated with the creatures. No need to smuggle anything.

_Maybe this is the colonel's doing,_ she thought._ He_ certainly seems to hate her, and this might be his way of disposing the witnesses. This _was_ after all a secret operation! As she pondered on this while she searched the room, Fixer was busy trying to get them out. He was just finished unscrewing the panel to the door switch to look inside. A slow work since he had to use ordinary tools, because he had somewhere misplaced his precious battery-operated polysizable screwdriver which would have done the job at a faster rate. It annoyed him considerably, because the cost to replace it would be cut from his pay-check! He would have to worry about it later though. Peeking inside, he saw that the two locking-pistons had been pushed into position. That meant that there was no point in trying to open the door manually by pumping the air out of the vacuum-containers - not as long as the pistons were hooked on to the door, and there was no power available to retract those. If he only had a portable generator available he would have been able to add some power to the mechanism, but he had totally relied on the power-sockets of the work-shop. And since there was no power to the door, that meant that those were gone as well. Only the lights still worked as they were operated on a different power-source, but they were integrated to the roof. He couldn't get in there, and besides; the lamps were too high up for him anyway. There was only one option available…

"I have to cut through the locks," he said, fetching the welding torch that was connected to a portable tank of propane. "The problem is; I can only do it from this side. This door is doubly sealed because of the valuable equipment in here, there's another set of locking-pistons on the other side of a partition panel inside the wall. It will take time to cut through all of it!"

"I doubt we have that much time," Newt said, once again sounding remarkably adult despite the fact that her voice was trembling. "But I suppose you better get started."

Newt took a firmer grip on the tool she had used earlier as Fixer began his cutting. It wasn't much of a weapon and it would probably be useless against the creature one more time, but it felt better to have it than having nothing at all. Time moved by extremely slowly while Fixer worked and Newt had to resist the urge to tell him to hurry. She forced herself to breathe more easily as she felt her chest starting to sting again from the excitement while her eyes continued to search every corner. Where was it? Newt hoped that she had managed to hurt it more than she thought so that it lay writhing in pain somewhere, but she doubted that was the case.

Finally a satisfying 'clink' was heard from inside the wall as something metallic fell aside. "Got the first ones," Fixer said. "Now I have to go through the partition panel."

But that was not an action that fate was willing to give them. Newt's heightened senses finally caught on some movement and over at one of the work-tables she saw how the hand-shaped monstrosity crawled up and then crouched as if to take charge.

"LOOK OUT!" she screamed and pointed. Fixer saw it and reflexively jerked back. He quickly assessed the situation and came up with the only defense he presently had available. As the creature jumped, Fixer quickly opened the gas-valve all the way on the handle and made an improvised flame-thrower. He raised his hands that held the torch and the facehugger was suddenly jumping into a giant fireball of ignited gas. It emerged from the other side of the flame with a shrilling hiss and landed as a heap on the deck. Its yellow-white hide was singed, blackened, and there were small portions of fire along its spine. But it was still totally relentless, it refused to give up. It scrambled up and was about to make another jump – but its adversaries were ready for it.

"Burn it!" Newt shouted.

"I got it!" Fixer replied and directed the flame towards the small parasite. The mechanic managed to drive it back, keeping it at bay with the gaseous fire. It was too hot for Newt to get close to, so she traded the pliers that she had been holding on to for one of the two-meter long metal-pipes that littered the floor. The pipe was heavy, normally too much weigh for a child of her age – but her small form had an added strength fueled by her fear of the aliens, as well as hate. And it was with that hate that she moved slightly closer to the facehugger, keeping her distance from the fire and began to beat the creature with the end of her metal rod. The critter shrieked with each hit from the child and from the heat of the flame – it finally escaped back under the workbenches. The two small people felt a euphoric sensation rush through them from their momentary victory, but it was short-lived. They were faced with a new problem as the torch suddenly withered and died out.

"Why did you put it out?" Newt was looking accusingly at Fixer as if he was dumb for doing so.

"I… I didn't!" Fixer stammered. "I opened it too much… it's out of gas!"

Now Newt was looking at him as if he had gone completely crazy. "Well, don't you have _more?_"

"Not _here!_" Fixer said almost in panic. "It's all in the ship's storage as per regulations!" Newt knew exactly what this meant. Not only had they just lost their best weapon against the monster, but they also lost their only tool that would've gotten them out of the locked room. She stumbled backwards as all hope left her tiny body and as she hit the door-frame with her back; she leaned all her weight against it and almost began to cry. "I don't believe it!" Newt whispered frantically with closed eyes. "I don't _believe_ it, _I don't believe it!_" Despite her frustration, she strained her ears to listen for movement. She still had the pipe in her hands - not a good weapon, but it was what she had. And she was going to give it a good beating until it got to her. She couldn't hear the creature, but she did pick up another sound. It sounded like muffled voices that came from outside the door!

"What's going on here?" The voice sounded like Bishop's. "Why is the door sealed?"

Another voice spoke up. "Newt? Fixer? Are you in there?"

New hope sparked up within the child's body. "HICKS!" she shouted through the door-frame. "BISHOP! HELP! THERE'S A FACE-MONSTER IN HERE!"

Outside in the corridor, Hicks became wild as he heard the child's words. "_Get it open!_" he screamed to the android. Bishop didn't even hesitate. With the strength that his pneumatic arms possessed, he ripped off the control-panel from the wall, popping the screws in the process and reached in to pull out the circuitry. The locking-pistons that sealed the door were controlled by magnetic blocks. Bishop was going to use his own power-supply to feed energy into those blocks to reverse the polarity of them.

"Hang on, Newt!" Hicks shouted. "We're coming in!"

"Okay," Newt said weakly. She met eyes with Fixer and he nodded to her in encouragement. They were going to get out of there. She turned back towards the room… and screamed as she caught glimpse of the blackened spider-like thing flying towards her, fingers spread widely apart. In reflex she raised her arms that held on to the metal pipe…

Hicks heard the girl scream from the inside and he went into hysteria. He clawed at the door, trying to get a grip. "NEWT! NOO!"

"_Clear the way!_" Bishop said, pushing the corporal aside. He had just managed to retract the locks and now he took a grip on the door and pulled. Slowly, fighting against air-filled canisters that held the door closed, the android managed to shove it slightly open. Once the opening was wide enough, they both dived into the room.

The sight within the work-shop was not what they had expected. Fixer stood to the side, watching in amazement. Newt was still leaning against the door-frame, panting heavily and staring wild-eyed at the hand-shaped creature that remained affixed just a few centimeters before her face. It had jumped at her with great velocity, and Newt had barely had the time to raise the pipe in her hands as a last defense. But it had been enough. Newt had by pure instinct raised her long pipe as a spear in front of the approaching creature and with the speed it had mustered, it had impaled itself on the rod, glided forward by the momentum it had carried until coming to a stop halfway along the pipe. Now it hanged there motionlessly, dripping acid from the entry-wound that was right now eating its way through the metal it was nailed on.

Bishop immediately went to her. "Newt. I'll take that, child."

Despite the fact that she trembled all over by the shock that she'd got and had hard time to get her reflexes to function, she willingly relinquished her hold on the pipe and surrendered it to the android. Bishop quickly carried the pipe on which the facehugger was nailed over the work-shop while small drops of acid spilled on the floor, causing small smoking pits. The front end of the pipe had almost given away when he reached the vat of water which Fixer had used to cool off the panel he had welded earlier. Bishop let the carcass drop into the water which hopefully would dilute the dripping acid so much that it would be rendered almost harmless – or at least weak enough to be unable to eat through the stain-less steel of the vat. He took a moment to study the dead creature.

"Talk about an incredible luck," he said. "You managed to stab it right through its center where the embryo was positioned. With that gone, the facehugger had no more reason to live on. Plainly speaking; you destroyed its only purpose of existence. Otherwise, it would still be coming at you despite being impaled."

"Lucky me," Newt said with a shivering voice.

Hicks then came up to her. "Are you all right, honey?" But Newt was looking at him as if she saw him for the first time and was frightened by his appearance. She gasped loudly and scrambled away from him.

"Newt?" Hicks called out to her in bewilderment.

"_Stay away from me!_" she almost screamed and retreated even further back. "_Don't come near me!_"

"What did I do?" Hicks asked her in almost the same despair as she displayed.

"She knows, Hicks," Bishop explained to him sadly. "She knows that you're carrying an alien within you." Newt huddled in the corner now, hugging her knees while tears streamed down her face.

"Newt, I know how this looks to you…" Hicks started to tell her.

"You're _lying!_" she sobbed. "You _don't_ know!" She paused, while her lower lip trembled violently. "I don't want you to die… like Ripley did. She left me… m-my parents left me… and now you are going to die too. I'll be all alone again, just like before!" Her shoulders shivered as she struggled to hold back her sorrow.

Hicks risked going a little closer to her – but not too close. He spoke to her with his gentlest tone. "Honey… had I been able to change the situation, then I would have done everything in my power to make sure that you wouldn't be alone. But the circumstances aren't in my favor, I won't deny that. But whatever outcome that I'm facing, I want you to know that I care about you. Heck, I'll even go as far as to say that I love you as a father would." Newt bit her lip and buried her face in her arms. "That's the only thing left for me," Hicks continued. "That's the only thing that matters to me now. I can't save myself, but I can still save _you!_"

Hicks stretched out his hands towards her. "I want to take you out of here, Newt. I want to take you off this ship. I will destroy these monsters and make sure they won't come after you again. As long as I breathe, I swear that I will protect you just like any father would do!" He risked leaning in a little closer. "Please Newt… for as long as I can, let me help you."

Reluctantly, the child took Hicks' outstretched hand and allowed to be pulled up on her feet. She kept her distance though, staring at a certain spot on his chest.

"Don't worry about this," Hicks said with a smile, tapping that spot. "It's a queen. Bishop says that it will be a while before it's time. But when the time do does come, I'm going to make sure that the beast won't cause any trouble."

"How can you speak so calmly about it?" Newt asked feeling somewhat indignant. "It will kill you!"

"No, it won't. I'm going to kill it first, but not before I've made sure that you're safe." Hicks brought her up to Bishop and Fixer who had stood aside waiting in silence. "All right people, let's assess the situation here," Hicks addressed everybody. "First: what happened here?"

"I don't know," Fixer said. "Everything was fine 'til after Bishop had left, then all of the sudden this creature bursts in here and the door was locked! Did somebody try to murder us?"

"That wouldn't be the first…" Hicks started to say.

"No, no, Hicks, let us think reasonably here," Bishop intervened, holding up his hands. "I know what you are thinking: somebody took the two eggs that were left and used them to get to Newt and Fixer."

"Right, that's what I'm thinking!"

"But there was only one coming in here," Bishop continued. "If somebody wanted to murder these two, he would've made sure that both parasites got in here. Besides, it came from that duct in the corner – that leads to an entire network of ventilation-ducts; it must've crawled around in there for hours before it found its way in here. This couldn't have been planned."

"Are you saying that it was just a coincidence?" Hicks questioned.

"Yes. It must have been an escapee from the vault for toxic waste that Phillips released. It probably slipped away before you people got there."

"But the door was still locked!" Fixer pointed out.

"Yes, the door," Bishop admitted. "Probably it was done to keep the two of you out of the way for some reason. We have somebody aboard with an agenda, there's no denying that."

"But who could it have been then?"

"Most likely it was done by the same person who thrashed main engineering – and murdered Sgt. Hurst!"

"What?" Fixer was shocked of hearing this.

"We found him shot dead in engineering," Hicks filled in. "And the controls smashed. We have a saboteur aboard."

"This is what we're facing:" Bishop spoke up more directly. "Sgt. Hurst was supposed to decompress the corridors around the detention block to keep the aliens isolated, but he was killed before he could do so. His murderer sabotaged the controls in main engineering to prevent the order from being carried out – and I'm quite willing to assume that the murderer also was the one who coerced Phillips to release the eggs in the vault."

"You think he was coerced?" Hicks asked.

"Naturally. The murderer couldn't release the eggs as he would risk falling victim to the aliens himslef. Better to let somebody else do it in his place."

"Somebody _wants_ the aliens free aboard the ship!" Hicks said bitterly.

"But why?" Fixer asked. "And who?"

"Could it be Colonel Decker?" Newt asked. She stood away a bit from them by the halfway open door as she was still a little uncomfortable with Hicks carrying an alien. "He hates us, and Mr. Weyland said that this was a top secret operation. He could be disposing of witnesses."

Hicks shook his head. "No, kid. Decker is a ruthless man, but he is still a military officer. He may not be above breaking the rules when it comes to completing a mission and I'm sure he would on some occasion sacrifice his own men to accomplish his duty – but he would never waste his troopers deliberately in favor for a civilian! No, somebody else is doing this!"

"And that somebody is me!" a new voice broke in. Everybody spun around, all except Newt who suddenly found herself trapped within an arm and the muzzle of a gun was pressing against her temple. "Just keep calm and this lovely little girl will not be harmed," Robert Morse said.

"_You!_" Hicks roared. "What are you doing? _Unhand her!_"

"I will, once I'm certain that I got your full cooperation." Morse had a weird triumphant smile plastered on his face.

"So you're the saboteur," Bishop said calmly. "I must say that I didn't expect that despite the fact that you are a convicted felon. I was under the impression that you hated the aliens since you barely escaped the massacre of Fury 161 with your life."

"Life is full of surprises, isn't it," Morse said. "I'll be happy to explain it to you - but first we're going to take a little trip to the colonel's office. I have some special instructions for him according to my plans."

"Let go of the girl first!" Hicks demanded.

"Uh-uh! She's my guarantee that you won't jump me. That's why I locked the door in the first place from engineering, so that I could come here and collect her."

"Did you send a facehugger in here?" Hicks asked angrily.

Morse actually did look confused. "No. That was not my doing. But apparently God is with them, since they survived." Hicks were not convinced by that theory – but it did look like now that the attack of the facehugger was just a chance-incident. "You don't think so?" Morse went on. "Believe what you choose to – but in my eyes, God made sure that they survived so that I could use them for my purpose. He is with me!"

"And what purpose is that?" Bishop asked.

A sour expression came on to Morse's face. "As my guarantee for your cooperation, weren't you listening? Now, come on. We're going to the colonel's office… you go first."

Hicks were boiling with rage as the company walked along the corridors of the _Hercules_. But he wasn't just angry with Morse whom held them as hostages – he was also angry with himself. The felon had caught them completely by surprise and now Newt was in his clutches. Morse was holding her by her collar behind her neck, driving her forward. _Hicks was supposed to protect her!_ He should have seen that possibility: Sgt. Hurst was shot dead with a gun, so why didn't he think that the culprit might've decided to go after them as well? Right now he wanted to strangle the man who had captured them, but he couldn't risk Newt's safety. So he went along willingly, waiting for an opportunity to show up. Hopefully Bishop was thinking in the same line as he.

Soon the company had reached the colonel's office. Morse indicated silently with the gun to Fixer that he would open the door, and then they all went in. Colonel Decker looked up from his desk and was immediately enraged.

"What's the meaning of this intrusion?" he demanded to know.

Morse stepped forward, still holding Newt in front of him. "The meaning of this, Colonel, is that I am assuming control of this vessel!"

"You'll do no such thing!" the colonel growled. "GET OUT!"

"I don't think you understand, Colonel," Morse said patiently. "I'm the one holding the bargaining chips."

Decker snorted in reply. "You mean them? What are you going to do if I don't give in to your demands? You'll kill them? Go right ahead. Their lives are irrelevant to me."

"Oh, but _he_ isn't!" Morse countered and suddenly he was pointing the gun at Hicks. Decker's reaction to this threat was just as absent as it always had been though. "And why should his life mean something to me?" Decker asked.

"Because your mission has been a failure ever since you lost all the eggs," Morse said with a challenge in his voice. "Hicks will save your mission, but only if he remains alive a while longer."

"What do you mean?" Decker asked him.

"He's carrying a queen, Colonel – an egg-layer! That will be worth a whole lot more to the Company than some couple of eggs, won't it?" None of the hostages knew have Morse could have known this, but considering the nature of their situation, it didn't really matter.

Decker glared at the felon. "Once a terrorist, always a terrorist, isn't that so, Mr. Morse? But I don't give in to terrorism!"

"I'm not a terrorist." Morse said with a warning.

"Oh no?" Decker smiled knowingly. "Your crimes states otherwise!"

Hicks couldn't help himself. "What crimes are those?" he asked.

"You don't know?" Decker sounded amused. "He attempted to blow up all the nuclear power plants on Earth – all at the same time!"

"You held them for ransom?" Hicks asked Morse. "Or was it an environmental act?" But it was Bishop who answered him.

"No, Hicks. I think I know what incident the colonel is referring to." Bishop stepped up and locked eyes with the criminal. "You're part of the 'God's rectifiers'-group, aren't you?"

"Part of it?" Morse smiled again. "I _founded_ it! I'm _the_ _leader!_"

"I don't quite remember that," Hicks said. "Who are they?"

"It's a religious cult," Bishop said. "A fanatical movement that believed firmly in the Bible – to the extent that they wanted to repeat all that happened in it."

"Repeat what?"

"They believed the population of Earth was being corrupted and full of sin, and they wanted to scour the world from it."

"How?"

"In the Bible God flooded the earth with water – _the_ Flood!"

"And where would they get the ability to do that?" Hicks asked.

"They couldn't. That's why they choose a _different_ method!"

Now Hicks understood. "The power plants? You wanted to flood the Earth with _radiation?!_"

Morse only shrugged; he displayed no kind of remorse. "I thought it was only fair, using mankind's own satanic invention to cleanse the world from them."

"But it wouldn't be 'clean', would it?" Hicks countered. "I seem to remember that God flooded the earth to start anew. The radiation from the power plants would ruin the soils and make the world uninhabitable."

"That was the draw-back," Morse admitted. "I know now that was the reason why God wasn't with us that day. He didn't approve of that method."

"I doubt he'd approve of any method at all," Hicks challenged.

"Oh, he does," Morse told him. "He's showed me the true tool of cleansing which will spare the Earth itself."

Hicks' jaw dropped as he realized what the felon was referring to. "The _aliens?!_" Morse's smile became even wider. "But that makes no _sense,_" Hicks went on. "You should hate them! You were almost killed by one of them!"

"But I wasn't! I was spared! God made sure that I would live as per our agreement!"

"Agreement?!"

"I cleanse the world – he makes me live forever! That's our deal! I'll admit that my faith was a little swayed when Ripley came to us with that creature in her tow – I thought God was punishing me for my failure. At first I really did hate the beast – I'll admit that it scared the shit out of me. But I lived, and afterwards I came to realize that it was the sign from God who showed me the tool he wanted me to use in my holy work!"

"But the books you wrote…" Fixer was perplexed. "You said you wanted to tell the galaxy what had happened. You wanted to honor Ripley's memory and warn the people what was out there…"

"I'm not warning them – that was your assumption! No, the books are my messages to my followers, to tell them what to expect!"

"You still have followers?"

"Lots of them!" Morse's smile was almost maniacal now. "Why do you think I was sentenced to Fiorina 16? The courts wanted to cut me off! Total radio-silence on that desolated place on a remote world made me unable to remain in contact with my cells, and I could not recruit new followers among my fellow inmates: they all had their own ideas of world domination! But after the creature destroyed them I was moved to a new facility were security wasn't tight enough. I gained access to the net and restarted my holy work. I wrote 'books' with secret codes in them to inform my followers of the new direction we were going to take, and one of my most trusted and devoted accomplices held me updated with Weyland's own obsessions with the creatures."

"You have a spy in Weyland's staff?" Bishop asked.

"One of _his_ most trusted men – or so he thinks." Morse was euphoric now. "The 'spy' as you call him was the one who as per my instructions issued the order to spring me from jail and putting me aboard this boat to 'help' the colonel pick up the three of you who was dead. It's my one master-plan: I escape from prison and personally sets in motion the plan to cleanse the Earth of all sinners!"

The colonel's expression was of absolute fury. He had been used by a lowlife of the civilian society and he didn't like that. "I should have left you to rot back on Fiorina as I was tempted to do!"

"But you couldn't, could you?" Morse taunted him. "You were under orders to bring me back to jail afterwards. But bringing me back is exactly what you are going to do now, Colonel – we'll just skip the detour through prison and go directly to Earth and 'deliver' the cargo!"

"I told you: I don't give in to terrorism!" Decker spat. "Do you honestly believe that I will let you have the specimens?"

"Oh, by all means, deliver them to the Company if that's what you want. It makes no difference to me as it eventually will go my way, anyhow. Bishop knows what I'm talking about, don't he?"

Bishop turned to the colonel and spoke to him directly. "Sir, we can't bring the aliens back to Earth. My research has shown me…"

"Your research is of no concern to me, _Robot!_" Decker snarled.

"_Please_, Colonel, this is no time to let your dislike for my kind to cloud what is happening here right now! My extensive research of the specimens and the equipment on the derelict has led to the conclusion that our attempts to harness the power of the creatures are _pointless_. Only that special energy on that alien craft can give us any chance to control the xenomorphs – but not only is it a energy-form that is unknown to us, it requires a technology to control it that we have no _possibility_ today to construct! I estimate that it will be at least one hundred and fifty years until humankind is advanced enough to duplicate the complexity of those machines to harness the energy! Until then, we should stay as far away from the aliens as we possibly can!"

"It is _still_ not my concern! I follow my orders! The specimens are going back to the Company no matter what! The mission comes _first!_"

"Colonel, you are not listening to _reason!_" Bishop argued. "The Company might be able to contain them for a while, but not indefinitely! Without that energy to block them, the aliens will break out of any trappings that man tries to think of. It is their way! It is _inevitable!_"

"I have noticed you opinion, _Robot!_" Decker said coldly. "Now will you _shut up?_"

"Colonel, if they escape confinements and gets to roam free on Earth, all of mankind will _die!_ Doesn't that concern you at all?"

"Why should it?" Morse answered for the colonel, despite the fact that he wasn't asked to. "To the colonel they're just worthless civilians, and to me they're all sinners. _Let them die!_"

"You're a _madman!_" Hicks burst out.

"I'm a man with a _vision!_" Morse retorted. "The Earth will be cleansed of all sinners and with God's grace we will be able to start anew!"

"With _you_ calling the shots, I suppose?"

"I'll be the voice of God, of course. I am after all the one who made the deal with him to live forever."

Now Hicks turned to Decker. "Sir, we can't let this maniac get his hands on the aliens! Like you said: we will not give in to terrorists!"

"I'm _not_ a terrorist," Morse protested. Hicks ignored him.

"I'm a soldier. I know my duty. You're going to have to _kill_ me! I know you got a gun under your desk – use it! Kill me and the queen with it! Don't let _him_ win!"

"Hold it _right there_, corporal!" Morse pressed the gun against Newt's temple again. She whimpered slightly. "If you allow yourself a premature death, then this little girl's life will be forfeited!"

"Why, you rotten…"

"You listen to me, Corporal… cooperate with my cause and I swear you will have bought this girl's life."

"Do you really think that I would trust _you_ with her life?"

"Believe me, I wish her no harm. With me she will be spared from the creatures, as she has already been chosen by God to be one of the few survivors. She will help repopulate the world."

Colonel Decker snorted at the statement from the madman. "What kind of nonsense is that?"

"She survived the destruction of her colony where all other sinners succumbed. The other proof is that she died, but God allowed her to return..."

Newt wriggled in his arm. "My people were _not_ sinners!" she protested angrily, feeling insulted.

Morse had to reposition his grip on her. "They left their homeworld - turned their back on it. They had to be punished…"

"You're a _monster!_" she screamed and then she bit him in his hand that had gotten too close to her face – at the same time she kicked backwards, right on his shin. Morse didn't cry out in pain, but he did let go of her. She retreated over to her friends.

"She's a feisty little one, that girl." Morse said as he shook his hand that had been bitten – his other hand still held them at gunpoint. "Such spirit. It'll be a challenge a tame her, but eventually I will get her to see things my way."

"You're talking brainwashing!" Hicks raged.

"Nothing so crude, I assure you. I have been gifted with quite a mouth for persuasion. I can easily talk people into doing my bidding."

Bishop seemed to find this interesting. "Like you did with young Phillips?" he asked. Morse began to laugh.

"That one was _too_ easy!" the felon gloated. "His kind is no challenge at all to win over – the alcoholic, unsociable types like him all have as good as zero self-reliance since they don't feel that they got a place in the world. Those are always in a desperate need to belong somewhere, to be accepted as someone of importance… quite easy to manipulate!"

"He was talking about being rewarded for releasing the eggs," Bishop said as he moved further to one side of the room and made his companions stealthily back down a bit as well. The android kept talking to keep Morse too busy to notice that. "What did you offer him?"

"Oh, the usual stuff… the status of being a hero in the new world, a place in heaven… that sort of things." Morse shrugged as if it was just a minor technicality.

"Too bad he missed the fact that you had him walk the fine line of being a hero and being a memory when you promised him those things." Bishop stated. It looked like to Hicks that the android was preparing for something.

Morse's smile was a little bit more sadistic-looking now. "I would have killed him later anyway! Just another sinner to sacrifice for the greater good of my holy mission! He was valuable for releasing the eggs in my stead, but otherwise he was just another inconsequential fool to both the old world and the new…"

Suddenly several gunshots went off in the colonel's office, making the ears on the hostages ring. Morse was staggering as he was hit, but he didn't fall. At first Hicks though that it had been Colonel Decker shooting the madman with his weapon, but the colonel all but remained behind his desk, impassive and unmoving. The gunshots had come from outside in the corridor, and now Dr. Peters, the surgeon stepped inside with a smoking rifle in his hands and an expression of sorrow and rage on his face.

"You killed my nephew," Dr. Peters spoke lowly with a murderous glare on the felon. Morse stood wobbly on his feet and turned slightly towards the newcomer. "You killed my sister's son, you bastard! He was an innocent boy, just a little lost in life. I took him with me with the promise to keep him safe and to give him something meaningful to do, but you killed him!" The surgeon took a new aim with his rifle, but it was with an unsteady hand as his grief made his body shake. His resolve was unmistakable though. "_He was just an innocent boy!_"

"No one…" Morse hissed with a raspy voice. "…is _innocent!_" And then he swung his gun and returned the favor. Knowing what was coming; Hicks clasped Newt to him, turned her face to his stomach so that she wouldn't see the drama unfolding and even held his hands over her ears. Dr. Peters grimaced as the bullets from Morse's weapon slammed into his body – red stains of bodily fluids blossomed on his white lab-coat. The colonel's office suddenly became like O.K. Corral – the surgeon knew that he was dying, but he was determined to take the villain with him. He let loose almost all that was left in his rifle as he fell backwards, but only a few of the projectiles reached his intended target. The rest missed his opponent and instead ruined the glass of the display-cases with swords and scabbards that was the exhibit of Decker's war-room. Some bullets even knocked loose the support-rods that held the many blades in position upwards. Dr. Peters now lay as a broken doll on the deck while a red pool spread from underneath him – he would never move again. The smell of burnt chemicals hanged in the air, mixed with the metallic scent of blood. Morse was still standing, but everybody could see that it wouldn't be for much longer.

The cult-leader of the radical movement guilty of attempted mass-homicide turned back towards his hostages – he didn't look all that concerned about how he'd just been perforated with bullets from the surgeon's rifle.

"He couldn't kill me," Morse sputtered, raising his gun again with a shaking hand. "No one can. I made a deal with God… t-to live…" He coughed. Blood bubbled between his lips. "…forever…" But the laws of physics overcame his belief. He coughed again and then his eyes rolled up inside his sockets and he fell over, crumbling like a heap. He was dead before he hit the deck. Now as the shooting was over, Hicks allowed Newt to disengage herself from him as he knew she was not comfortable with being so close to the monstrosity which resided within him. The girl stepped away, but kept her eyes off the bodies. Bishop stepped forward to confirm that both people had passed away. The android displayed an expression of sadness.

"Two more lives lost," Bishop stated. "That was not anticipated."

"No great loss where he was concerned," Hicks said in reply. "He had us all fooled: acted like he was completely sane, but in reality he was an absolute madman." He looked over at the other body. "Too bad about Peters though. Did you know that he was coming here?"

"I heard a person approaching outside in the corridor while Morse was bragging," Bishop explained. "Since the steps sounded human, it could only have been Peters as he was the only one left of the crew. I tricked Morse to confess about Phillips in hopes that Peters would distract him so I could disarm him, but I had no idea that Peters had acquired a weapon of his own. I did not want this to happen."

"There's no point to dwell on that, Bishop. At least we're off that maniac's hook. Now we can concentrate on our primary matters without having to stand under gunpoint."

"I… wouldn't be too sure about that." Fixer then said, sounding nervous. Hicks turned around, and found himself staring down the barrel of another gun, which rested in Colonel Decker's hand.

* * *

Author's notes: No, I have no idea what Morse's crimes were in the movie - I doubt that the reason for his imprisonment has been declared anywhere at all. So everything about him being a cult-leader of a radical religious movement is all made-up. But he really did claim in the movie that he had made a deal with God to live forever, so I based all that is described of him in my story around that as well as around the books it was said he was writing.


	20. Colonel Decker's secret

"Colonel, are you out of your _mind?!_" Hicks were quite baffled.

"You still retain an insubordinate tone to your superior officer, Corporal!" Decker said coldly.

"What's the meaning of this? You did nothing while Morse held us at gun-point, but _now_ when he's dead you're pulling a weapon against us?!"

"Don't question my motives, Corporal! I could not risk him shooting you." Hicks knew that Decker wasn't referring to his personal welfare. "Morse was right on one point: a queen is a much more valuable price than a couple of eggs. It will more than make up for the loss of the previous specimens. Now move it." Decker made an indication with his gun.

"Where are we going?" Hicks asked.

"You are going to the cryogenic deck!" Decker said icily, which meant that his orders left no room for argument. "Hypersleep will slow the growth rate of the queen until we reach our destination and there you will be delivered to Mr. Weyland."

The situation reminded Hicks of the argument that had been going on after they had caught Carter Burke trying to impregnate Newt and Ripley with two aliens in an attempt to smuggle the monsters past quarantine procedures at Gateway station. Hicks figured that he would have to try to retaliate the same way Ripley had threatened Burke with what she would do.

"There's no way I'm going to let any of you sneak this thing past the ICC. I'll spill the true story the first chance I get."

Decker did not falter one bit. "You are referring to the authorities back on Earth. But unlike you, Weyland has learned his lesson! Our destination is _not_ Earth! We're going to one of his private-owned moons where he has built a secret research-facility! Only _I_ knew that part of our mission. So even if the creatures _do_ break loose, they will be isolated there. Earth will be in no danger."

Hicks felt how the situation slipped out between his fingers. "The creatures have killed _hundreds_ of people!" he persisted. "They're like a deadly virus – they have to be _exterminated!_ I will not cooperate! I'll _die_ first!"

Decker growled. "Listen Corporal, either you'll walk to the cryogenic deck by your own feet, or I'll _drag_ you there. I only need to deliver you alive, not in one _piece!_ I can cripple you without killing you – I'll just break your fourth vertebra, rendering you immobile but with respiratory intact. So I'll suggest that you hold on to what little dignity you have left and _get moving!_"

"What about them?" Hicks asked, referring to his three friends. "What will become of them?"

"I don't know and I don't care! But most likely the brat will be properly reconditioned and put away somewhere. She is after all officially dead. Fixer is already working for the Company, they'll probably buy him out or make him disappear – none of it concerns me!"

"I won't allow any of that!" Hicks all but shouted.

"You're in no position to bargain!" Decker retorted.

"But I am!" Bishop suddenly spoke up. "In these past days I've done extensive and thorough research of data that will be invaluable to the Company. It is all within my memory-banks. I want you to open a direct-link with Mr. Weyland and let me talk to him to bargain for the safety of the two civilians. Otherwise I will be forced to destroy the data."

Decker was furious. "Are you trying to blackmail _me,_ _Robot? _And going against your own designer? I thought you were obedient to him?"

"We had the code of directive incorporated to my protocol for protection of innocent lives. I can rescind all other priorities now."

"In other words, you are _malfunctioning_ \- which means that you have become a liability to the mission! It'll be my pleasure to _scrap_ you!"

"My programming will not allow any human-being to do me harm." Bishop stated in an as-of-matter-of-factly tone.

"We'll see about _that, Robot!_" Decker roared and fired his gun at the android's head in point-blank range. But Bishop was prepared – with speed that only an artificial being could muster he ducked to the side so that the bullet missed and now that Decker had made the first assault, Bishop allowed his programming of self-preservation to kick in and he went to attack. But Decker displayed an unexpected and enormous strength in response to the android's charge – as the two combatants locked arms, the colonel used Bishop's momentum to slingshot him around and he was suddenly thrown into the display-cases that had previously been shot broken by the straying bullets from Dr. Peter's rifle. As the synthetic lay there trying to collect himself, Decker approached him with a menacing posture. "I'm going to rip out your diodes, _Robot!_"

But now Hicks joined the battle. He may have had his doubts about the android ever since he'd turned against him down in the derelict, but Bishop was still a comrade of his former unit – and in a unit, the soldiers always looked after their own. Rushing up behind him, Hicks grabbed Decker in a full nelson and attempted to drag him backwards. But Decker displayed an incredible strength and agility again: he reached behind his neck and grabbed hold of Hicks' shoulders. Decker crouched, and like when an angry horse throws off his rider, the colonel threw Hicks off his back and hurled the corporal across the room. The wind was knocked out of him as he crashed on the deck. The only thing Hicks had won on his attack was that the colonel had lost his gun. Decker now turned to the child and the mechanic – he didn't say anything, he didn't even growl: but his face was a mask of pure rage. The two small people backed off in fear.

But now Bishop had crawled out of the broken display-case. As he got to his feet, he unintentionally knocked off the remaining support-rods which had come loose from the earlier shooting that held the swords and blades in place. As the metal-rods clattered on the floor, the up-ended blades tipped over. But they didn't fall off the shelves they were standing on; there were still some undamaged fittings that held on to the handles. It resulted in that the sharp pieces of metal stood out from the wall like a dangerous row of spikes. Bishop didn't take much notice of it – instead he rushed up to take battle with the colonel again with the full intent to protect the two civilians. Decker saw him coming and charged against him in return and they slammed into each other, getting into a clinch. They beat each other with fists and foreheads, going for throats in an attempt to rip the other one's head off. Bishop no longer held back – he had this fleeting suspicion that Decker was not what he appeared to be as he was so immensely strong. The servo-motors in Bishop's artificial joints could actually be heard whining as they struggled to match the impossible strength of the colonel.

"I think we had better get out of here, Newt." Fixer said, knowing that they would be a distraction as well as a weakness if they remained here. But as he turned to grab hold of her arms to get her out of the office, he saw that the child was no longer standing beside him. Instead she had gone over to the broken display-case and reached for something on the floor among the glass-shards.

Newt thought of Ripley, acted like Ripley, _became_ Ripley – at least in the way she remembered the adult. She remembered how the woman had fought for her life in the midst of danger, refusing to embrace defeat. The girl also remembered how Ripley had come after her in the dungeons of death to save her from the mortal peril that were the monsters which had slain her entire colony. And yet it wasn't the monstrous creatures that were first-hand responsible for that… it was the people whom they fought now who were the _real_ enemy – the Company reps whom had intentionally let the aliens loose on them! Colonel Decker were like Carter Burke, like Michael Weyland… a Company rep who with cold-blooded purpose and total disregard sacrificed a whole lot of innocent people so that they could get their hands on the terrible species that brought nothing but destruction. The girl understood now that when all the time Ripley had fought the aliens she had really fought against the Company, preventing them from getting the creatures. And now Newt was going to do the same – she didn't want to be just a frightened little girl in this case. Fearing the aliens was one thing; only a fool wouldn't fear them. But she would not be intimidated by the Company reps. She would fight them, just like Ripley did! Therefore she now picked up a metal-rod that lay on the floor, holding it like a club just like she had done in the work-shop. Forcing down her fear, and letting her anger flow, she went in and started to beat the colonel over his head and his back with the rod to allow Bishop to get the upper hand.

Unfortunately it didn't seem to help at all – the colonel didn't react as a human-being should! Although he still was fighting Bishop, Decker turned around and glared angrily at the child. His arm shot out and he back-handed her across her face, sending her sprawling. It was fortunate that he was still in clinch with Bishop, otherwise the slap would have been much more powerful – but it was still enough to send a shock through her little body as she had never experienced such brutality on her before.

"_You monster!_" That shout had come from Hicks. He had seen how Decker had knocked the child away and his body was suddenly fueled by a tremendous rage of his own. Hicks rushed up to his feet and jumped into the two-man brawl, making it a three-man fight – two to one. Finally it seemed to have an effect on the colonel – one-on-one was something he could easily handle, but fighting two seemed to be odds that were against him, especially since one of his opponents was an android. But still he refused to surrender.

While the three fought, Fixer went over to Newt to see how she fared. She was teary-eyed from the slap, but she was otherwise all right. Fixer didn't say it, but he was astonished of the child's bravery. She was only six years old, and yet she went in to aid her friends like an adult would. Fixer was secretly ashamed because he himself had only stood by and watched, doing nothing. It had been almost the same back in the work-shop: hadn't it been for Newt's bravery, he wouldn't be standing there now. He was starting to think that he was nothing but a coward and it was not a comforting thought. But he forced himself to push the thought aside and pulled Newt back on her feet to clear her away from the combatants.

Finally an opening showed itself in the struggle. Decker stood with his back against Bishop and he threw an elbow into the side of the android's head, which momentarily left the colonel's arms spread apart. Hicks summoned all his strength and knocked the colonel backwards with a double upper-cut that hit the other square in the jaw. Hicks' knuckles felt like they've just punched into a brick-wall, but it had been worth it. Decker stumbled into Bishop and now it was the android who took advantage of the other one's momentum. Like Decker had done to him, Bishop swung the colonel around in a slingshot to add some speed to his velocity and then the synthetic hurled his opponent away. But the momentum wasn't as great as when the colonel had thrown him earlier – Decker might've been able to stop himself, had he not tripped over Morse's dead body. Falling over, Decker flew head-long backwards against the same wall which Bishop had been thrown into only moments before. But this time there were sharp blades of swords and scabbards standing out to meet the approaching body. Decker may be immensely strong, but he was not invulnerable. He slammed into the row of deadly blades with his back first and the speed was so great that the swords punched through his entire frame and his body fluids sprayed in all directions. To Newt's dismay, it splashed all over her as she had been standing too close. She winced and shut her eyes as the warm liquid came into contact with her face and chest, not wanting to see the result of the evil deed that she just had participated in. She had only wanted to distract the colonel, not taking part in his death. She had heard sayings of how people did not want blood on their hands in some matters – that meant it had to be much worse to get blood all over her body. Daring not to face whatever the consequences of that might be, she kept her eyes tightly shut. All was unusually quiet for a moment before Hicks finally spoke. His voice was one of shock.

"I don't believe it!"

"It does shed some new light on many things where he's concerned." Bishops voice was as calm as always, but Fixer's voice matched that of Hicks'. "You mean… under all this time…?"

Hicks finished the sentence. "Decker is a _robot?_"

Upon hearing those words, Newt finally took a dare to open her eyes and she looked down on her body. Where she had expected to see blood, she saw some kind of milk – the same milky substance that Bishop used to have before the queen had torn him apart. She looked up at the body hanging on the blades like a butterfly nailed to a wooden surface. It looked like a leaking rag-doll. Decker's face was stuck in a permanent expression of rage, but there was no other movement. There were only some electrical sparks from severed conduits and circuits discharging against the protruding blades.

"How could this be?" Fixer asked. "I mean… what kind of a robot is he? Acting as military officer without anyone noticing it and acting so cold? Aren't androids supposed to be friendly?"

"This thing certainly wasn't friendly," Hicks said. "I've never seen an android being so malevolent! Isn't there supposed to be certain protocols preventing robots from harming people like this?"

"In the newer models, there is," Bishop confirmed. "But I have a feeling that this one isn't so new…" Bishop stepped up to Decker's broken body. Hicks couldn't see what he was doing, but when Bishop turned back to them again, he seemed to be delighted somehow. "That certainly explains a lot of things," he said. "It's a Hyperdine Systems 120-A/2 – the same model as Ash, Ripley's science officer on the _Nostromo_!" Bishop actually giggled. "They always _were_ a bit twitchy."

"An A/2?" Fixer questioned. "Aren't those like seventy years old?"

"Indeed they are." Bishop confirmed. "And that's how long it is said that Decker has been in the army. I remember reading that story: it was during the last eastern crisis. Some top-brass generals at the Pentagon wanted to start to train a new brand of special soldiers who would be willing to deal with America's adversaries more efficiently and methodically - but the war had already claimed the lives of many young men, so they couldn't find the special type of personality that they wanted to recruit. That problem reached the ears of the robotics-division of the Company, and they sent an executive to sell the army a large quantity of special custom-made androids: androids that would never tire on the battle-field - would not have any fear of death and who of course would follow orders to the letter."

Bishop's visual attention remained focused on the remains of the military C.O. as he continued with the story. "All 'nice' traits of the personality in those androids were deliberately excluded – they all acted like the colonel here did around the living people, but that didn't concern the top brass. They were very pleased with having a group of soldiers who obeyed their every order without question and did their missions thoroughly within the expected time-frames and all that. That's why Decker always was so obsessed with time – however that's where the problems with them originated."

"An upraise?" Hicks asked.

"Not from the androids," Bishop answered. "But from several civilian parties. It turned out that the androids became a little too systematic. Basically their orders were to exterminate every kind of threat they stumbled over, and soon it involved people with only loose connections and then to those who had nothing to do with the matter at all."

"They attacked civilians?" Fixer asked.

Bishop nodded. "They made their own decree to wipe out the threat to the mother country: all persons found guilty of terrorism, or aiding a person convicted of terrorism, or associating with a person convicted of terrorism were sentenced to public execution by a firing squad. All civil rights: legal counseling and right to verdict by a jury of peers was by their own martial law suspended. Family members, friends and even shopkeepers who only sold some goods to an associate to a terrorist were executed. It was a clear case of violation to the Geneva Convention. The top brass tried to smooth these incidents over but in the end, the associations for civil rights worldwide became the dominating voice for recalling all the units and have them dismantled."

"Decker somehow managed to escape the recall." Hicks stated.

"Escaped, or somehow made 'lost' in the process. There were rumors that not every unit had been accounted for, but it was never confirmed. This is the first proof we've seen that the top brass did save some units and put them in new positions to do their more 'questionable' work. It is amazing that no one ever connected Colonel Decker to that incident, he being a stone-cold officer with absolutely no regard for laws and civil rights – but unfortunately people do have the tendency to forget things as time goes by. He hid his true nature very well by pretending to spend his time in stasis while he was off duty, otherwise some people should have begun to wonder why he never reached an age of retirement."

"There are some departments who just turn a blind eye as well." Hicks snorted. "But I don't get how Decker could hide it for so long? He was injured down there – an alien bit right through his chest! Why didn't any of us see the white of his blood?"

"Probably because of the dim light," Bishop theorized. "And because of the leather uniform he wears. It is a non-breathable type - fluids that become stained on it, in this case from the inside will not be able to sip through the material. It will just show as a dark spot on the outside without being distinguishable to what it really is. I remember seeing him gripping the uniform tightly over his wound on the way up after the encounter with the creatures."

Hicks nodded as he remembered that as well. "Yeah, and he wouldn't let Simpson check his wound. He'd actually shoved him away to not let him see it."

"And once he was alone up here he repaired his injury, once more hiding what he truly was. And he had the nerve of calling _me_ a robot!"

"Does it really matter now?" Newt sounded bitter. She was busy trying to wipe off Decker's android internal fluid from her face and clothes, but all she managed was to smudge the milky substance over to parts of her body that had not been sprayed. She looked very fretful. "We've got him out of the way now, haven't we? So shouldn't we do what we're supposed to be doing? The monsters are loose and I don't want them to come looking for us!"

Hicks looked like he was taken by surprise. "You know, she's right! I almost forgot about that! Everything got side-tracked when Morse took us captive." He straightened himself up. "This is the plan: first we assume control of the ship and mount a strike against the aliens! We will nuke the derelict ship from orbit and destroy it along with the rest of those eggs still down there. Then we're going to have to somehow blow the ones aboard out into space!"

Bishop began to walk towards Decker's desk, but he looked peculiarly doubtful. "I fear that may not be so easy after this revelation." Sitting down in the command-chair Bishop hit some switches that made the desk fold back several panels and turning into a terminal for controlling every key-system of the ship's functions. Colonel Decker's office was now in battle-bridge mode, but it helped their situation very little.

"I was afraid of that," Bishop delivered the bad news. "The primary controls are locked down with a prefix code. Helm, weapons, communications, even access to the main computer… they're all inaccessible!"

"Can't you break the code?" Hicks asked him. But Bishop shook his head.

"This is a 32-digit number. Do you have any idea how long it would take to try to break such a code? The mathematical permutations go up to several billions! Even for an artificial person like me it would take years to find the right combination."

"Then we're stuck!" Hicks exclaimed.

"We're stuck here," Bishop corrected. "But if we could gain access to the main bridge we might still be able to make a difference. Decker can block access to the battle bridge, but not from the primary controls up there. It would be totally against regulations and safety protocols. From there we would have access to navigation and propulsion – but unfortunately not weapons! If I know Decker, he most likely made sure to lock us out from those as well, that would be within his prerogative as a commander of this ship." Bishop took on a determined expression. "There's only one thing to do: we have to _crash_ this ship into the derelict, use it a sledgehammer! At the same time we will take out every alien aboard. It's the only way to be sure!"

"But that means _suicide!_" Fixer exclaimed. "Whoever goes up there would have to steer the ship all the way down! Besides, the bridge is cut off by the decompressed zone! There's no way to get there!"

"Yes there is," Bishop corrected again. "We still have your make-shift airlock on the lower levels of the ship. Walking through the vacuum is one thing – the tricky part will be to force-open the pressure-doors to the other side. Then it should be straight to the bridge."

"I'll need a space-suit for that," Hicks said. "But they're on deck six within the vacuum."

Bishop looked at him curiously. "Why is that a problem? You're not going there."

Hicks looked back at him with a bemused expression of his own. "I'm carrying, Bishop. I'm a dead man already, so I'm the logical choice to take this ship down!"

"Hicks, you would _never_ be able to do the multitasking required to fly this ship alone while by-passing all safety-measures incorporated within the ship's systems – the ship itself would stop you before you even could enter the atmosphere! But _I can!_" Hicks were about to object, but Bishop cut him off before he could utter the first syllable. "_You_ on the other hand have another responsibility that only _you_ can do! You must get Newt and Fixer off this ship! You have to get them to an EEV!"

"An EEV?" Hicks were confused. "Why not evacuate them in the dropship?"

"You're not thinking!" Bishop actually scolded him. "We have to destroy the _Hercules_ in order to exterminate the aliens – that means that those two will unfortunately be stranded here! To ensure their survival they will need to be put into hypersleep capsules until a rescue comes along. A dropship is not equipped to house cryotubes – the EEV is."

"Why can't you take them there?"

"Who knows where the aliens are now? They could be anywhere aboard this ship, probably suddenly sweep down and kill the three of us on the route to the EEV – but you're the one carrying a queen! They won't touch you because of it, and with luck they won't touch the others either while they're under your protection. It's only with _you_ they have a chance to survive!"

Hicks pondered on this, and he reluctantly realized that Bishop was all the way correct in his assessment. "You _do_ realize what this means to you?"

"Yes," Bishop confirmed. "If this is to succeed, I have to give up my life. But I also know what's at stake, so I'll die with the knowledge that my sacrifice will be for the greater good." Bishop smiled. "Believe me, I prefer not to. I may be synthetic, but I'm not stupid."

Hicks nodded sadly, knowing that the course of action ahead of them would lead them to their inevitable destiny from which there would be no escape. Fixer looked at the two bigger beings as if feeling ashamed of being a burden to two that would have to die so that he would live. Newt was crying.

* * *

Author's notes: Didn't expect that, did you? :-) I gave a hint to Decker's true nature quite early, his surname being Esteban. You know how the movies name the androids in alphabetic order? Ash, Bishop, Call and David. (From Prometheus.)


	21. Into the lion's den

Only three items was brought with them as they left Colonel Decker's office despite the fact that those probably wouldn't do much good against the xenomorphs: the rifle that Dr. Peter's had shot Morse with – it turned out it still had three bullets left. The gun Morse had captured from the late Sgt. Hurst however turned out to be empty and therefore useless. But Decker's weapon was another matter: only one shot had been fired - the clip was almost full so Hicks brought that with him. But the rest of the weapons in the war-room had to be abandoned. The ballistic armaments were functioning, but there was no ammunition for them whatsoever. And without that, all the rifles and pistols displayed in that museum were nothing but worthless junk. Even the swords were left behind: against aliens, the blades would hardly be effective. There was only one more item brought, but Hicks preferred not to think about that object for the time being – that would be a later concern.

The four friends arrived at the makeshift airlock on the lowest deck outside the decompressed zone where they would part ways forever. No word had been said since they left Decker's office as they knew that nothing they said would ever make the upcoming goodbyes any easier. Fixer went without a word over to the air-pump that would suck the air out of the airlock, making sure that it was ready to use. Bishop was the one opening a new dialogue and breaking the uncomfortable silence. His words were all business though.

"All right. Don't be alarmed when the ship rocks – that will be the portion of air in the lower levels on the other side being sucked out when I open the door. I will seal it as fast as I can when I'm through before the remaining oxygen escapes from the fore-section. I will need, say ten minutes to get to the bridge from this point - another five minutes to prepare the helm and override all safety-protocols. That's when I will start the descent, so that's how long you got to reach an EEV and make a controlled eject before we get too deep into the atmosphere."

"Don't worry." Hicks told the android. "We have no intention on remaining aboard here longer than necessary. This ship has become a vessel of death and just like its crew it should be nothing but one with eternity. I only regret that it has come to this."

"Unfortunately we don't have time for regret, or the luxury for it. Better to accept it and make sure that we go out with dignity."

"Or as we in the Marine Corps have a habit of saying: 'Like a soldier dying for his country'. It's supposed to make us feel better about it."

"Does it work?"

"I'm going to ask myself that question when I'm ready to deal with the beast within me. Until then, I prefer not to give an answer."

Bishop held out his hand. "This is it, then."

Hicks took it. "Let's get those bastards."

Bishop crouched down before the quiet child. With his hand he gently lifted up her wet face. "Are those tears for me?" he asked. "I am honored. I doubt anyone else would do that for an artificial being like me." Newt didn't say anything. She had trouble just trying to compose herself and remain brave. Bishop was not at all offended by her quiet response – instead he fumbled with something on his arm. "Newt, I don't possess the ability to predict the future – and yet, how illogical it all may seem, I can feel it in my core that you will survive. That's why I want you to have this…" From the recorder fastened to his arm, he removed a compact disc which he handed to the girl.

"It probably won't seem much to you – you might even dislike it, but I want you to promise me that you will hang on to this. This disc contains my research, every scrap of information I've discovered about the creatures and of the derelict ship. It's not at all for the benefit of the Company that I want this to survive – it's because I want it to be your insurance ticket. With this information you can convince anyone to believe what has happened here, and as you get older you will attain the wisdom to use this as a leverage to file charges against the Company or whatever you wish to do. You got your whole life ahead to decide what to do with it – and I've made sure that only you can access it. Just be sure that you only share its contents with those you are certain that you can trust." Newt didn't at all understand what Bishop was telling her - she wasn't sure she wanted to. But her friend wanted her to have it, and that was enough for her. She accepted it, but she still couldn't look Bishop in the eye as her tears began to sting again. Bishop caressed her arm.

"I know that look. But don't feel guilty… if I have to die for somebody, I am glad that it is for you - you are worth it. Always remember that." He squeezed her arm gently one last time. "Good luck, Newt."

Bishop turned to the small-sized mechanic and shook his hand as well. "Thank you for bringing me back, Fixer."

"It… was my pleasure." The small man said, not knowing what else to say. Instead he indicated to the door. "I'm ready when you are."

"Then let's do it," Bishop replied and stepped inside the compartment.

"See you on the other side, Bishop," Hicks called after him with a merry voice.

"Make sure you don't bring any unwanted guests over there." Bishop called back with the same cheerful tone as the door rolled shut, separating them. Newt couldn't understand how they could make jokes in the face of death. It took a moment while Fixer pumped the air out, then he reported that the android had proceeded to the depressurized section.

"There's nothing more we can do here," Hicks stated, now all devoid of his faked cheerfulness. "We got our own schedule to keep, so let us go." They left the make-shift airlock behind them, not looking back. Three minutes passed, and then they felt the ship rock. But there was no cause for alarm – they knew that it meant that Bishop had reached the other side of the vacuum. They each gave a silent prayer for him and went on.

* * *

Hicks had refused to admit it earlier, but he had no choice but to admit it now – Bishop had actually done the right thing when he'd deliberately injected that weird jelly into the embryo within his chest, making it into a queen. If he hadn't, Hicks doubted that there would be much of a chance for survival for the three of them as the corporal saw what was ahead of their route now.

He had seen it before - and he recoiled from the sight of it. The corridor ahead of them was obscured with a weird substance that blended perfectly with the metallic bulkheads before filling out into an epoxy-like incrustation that extended deep along the way ahead, resembling the interior of a rib-cage. Hicks knew that he was looking at the entrance to a crèche – the hive of the aliens! Of all the places they could choose to settle in, they just had to choose _this_ area – the corridor the three of them had to go through!

"Can we go around?" Fixer asked with a quivering voice.

"There's no time." Hicks answered him grimly. "We have to go through here or we won't make it before Bishop sends this ship crashing. Let's just hope the creatures are as protective of the queen as he expects them to be."

Newt would have nothing of that. She jerked back with her eyes wild and panic evident on her face. "_NO! I don't want to go! I don't want to go in there!_" she cried. Her reaction was not so strange. Before they had fled the planet three years earlier, Newt had been captured and brought inside the hive of the aliens, into the dungeons of death. She would have become infested with one of the monsters had not Ripley got there in time and rescued her. It had still been traumatic for her though; she had seen the bodies of her people cocooned in the walls – people she had known. And many monsters everywhere. She understood, _knew_ that the creatures would be waiting for them inside, and now Hicks wanted to go in there _willingly –_ into the lion's den? It wasn't just stupid, it was downright crazy!

Hicks tone was apologetic. "I'm sorry, honey. We don't have any choice." The rifle they had brought with them was slung over Hicks' shoulder. Now he took it off and handed it to Fixer. "Here's what we'll do: you will have to keep that rifle pointed at me all the time as we go through in there. The creatures should recognize it as a threat and not dare to attack you in fear of it going off. Just don't shoot me with that thing, will you? At least not yet," he added as an afterthought.

"Let us just hope that the creatures don't know that I never handled one of these things before," Fixer replied while looking incredulously at the weapon.

"The evident threat to their unborn queen should be enough to keep them at bay," Hicks assured him, although he was not entirely convinced of that fact himself. "Are you ready, Newt?"

Newt wasn't ready and it looked like she wasn't going to be any time soon. She kept backing away from the entrance to the crèche, going into hysteria. _"No! No!"_ she screamed. _"They'll take us! They'll get us, and they will put monsters inside us!"_

The girl was on her breaking point for the second time. Hicks couldn't have the child to crack down now – he quickly went over to try to talk some sense into her. "Newt! Calm down! Look at me!" But she wouldn't calm down. She wept and tried to wriggle out of the way. There was a great risk that she would run off, and there definitely wasn't time to chase her down if that happened. He took hold of both sides of her face, more firmly than he wanted to, and spoke to her in his most authorizing tone. "_Hey! Hey! Rebecca! Listen to me! Hey! Rebecca Jorden, look at me! Look at me!_"

As Hicks had hoped, the use of her birth-name seemed to trigger something deep within the girl. Her weeping eyes focused on the adult and although she still trembled all over, she stopped fidgeting.

"I know you're scared, honey. I don't blame you at all, because I am too. But I won't let the fear take control of me; I use it to focus on the task ahead of us, and that's what I want you to do as well."

"I can't…" she whimpered.

"Yes, you can! You've done it before! Back in your colony you used it to survive! It will come back to you if you will just let it!" To Hicks' relief, it looked like the girl managed to find the defensive techniques that she had once relied on, she looked much more composed now. Those techniques had always been there of course, ever since she had developed them in her solitude in her wrecked colony - she had just needed to be reminded of them.

Hicks combed back locks of honey-blond hair behind the girl's ears with his hands as he continued to speak to her with a reassuring tone. "Do you trust me, Newt?" To the child it was an inane question – but she nodded in response anyway. "Then trust me when I say that I won't let those monsters get their claws on you. I'm going to carry you through there – they won't dare to do a thing to you if you're in my arms as they don't want to risk damage to the queen. You will be safe."

But the child looked at him with an earnest expression. "What if you're wrong?"

It was a valid question, and one that Hicks were hesitant to answer. But he was certain that the child knew the seriousness of the situation and he decided that it was best to be as honest with her as possible. It would not do to lie to this child anyway – he knew since before that she could see right through any false words.

"I won't let them have you," he told her in the same earnest tone. "Not in any way!" Newt knew what Hicks meant by it. If the worst occurred, then the adult would make sure she wouldn't suffer – it literally meant that he was going to put a bullet through her head to give her a clean, easy and instant death. She wasn't shocked by that knowledge, because she had faced that outcome before. Her own biological mother had been prepared to do the very thing to both her and her brother when the colony was all but lost rather than letting the aliens have their way with them. But the air ducts had then been the alternate escape and it had never come to that – until maybe now. There would be no escape through any ducts this time. If the aliens decided to attack them inside there despite the fact that Hicks was carrying a queen, it would be the end. And a bullet would be a lot more merciful compared to what the monsters would do.

She stretched out her arms, preparing to entrust her whole being to the soldier. But she did shiver at the thought of having to be in such a close vicinity to the unborn queen inside of him even though it wouldn't come out yet.

With the small strong arms locked around his neck, Hicks lifted the girl up from the floor and supported her weight with his left arm as she responded with folding her legs around his waist. That left his right hand free to carry the colonel's gun they had brought with them, in case he would have to shoot their way out.

"Are we ready to go then?" he asked his company. Fixer took his position behind the corporal, pointing the barrel of the rifle to the small of Hicks' back. There were no words needed to be said.

As they prepared to enter the nest of the aliens, they experienced a collective tremble flow through them. At first they thought that they had felt their nervousness overwhelm them, but then they realized that the tremor was the result of the _Hercules_ changing position in space. That meant that Bishop was on the bridge and was going to start the descent to crash the ship into the alien derelict on the surface of the planetoid below – and that in turn meant that they didn't have that much time to spare any longer.

* * *

As expected, Bishop had reached the bridge without any problems. There was nothing alive in the front of the ship that could even have got the idea to stop him; he had the whole area for himself. The problems started as he input the flight-plan into the navigational computer, but that too had been expected. Naturally the security systems would object to the intention of taking the ship down into the atmosphere and make a forcible impact on the surface. After all, most of the battle-cruisers serving in the Colonial Marine-corps weren't designed to go into the atmosphere, and definitely not to land. The ship's computer was expected to analyze each new input Bishop made to navigation and take an immediate counteraction to protect the ship. Bishop would have to override each of those counteracts as soon as the computers presented them, _before_ they got into effect – he would only have one half of a second to implement the countermeasure. That would be an impossible task for a human, but not too big of a problem for a synthetic with a calculative mind which was capable of working at a much faster rate than that of an organic.

As he input the coordinates of the plateau where the derelict rested, he got the confirmation of what he already had calculated on how he had to proceed. He couldn't just plunge the _Hercules_ in; the atmospheric resistance during reentry would throw the ship to all sides and make him fall towards the surface like a meteorite and he would most likely miss his target. Bishop would have to prolong the descent in order to make a controlled reentry. LV-426 was quite small, only around twelve hundred kilometers - one orbital circle around the planet to get into position and then another circle in a glide-flight through the atmosphere with a steadily dropping altitude should do it. It was still going to be bumpy ride and the heat-shields will completely burn out – but what difference will that make to a ship that was about to be destroyed?

Bishop activated the navigational thrusters to move the ship into the bearing he required for his descent – the ship shook slightly as it broke the orbit it had held previously, but that was a minor tremor compared to what was going to come. He fired the afterburners next to get into his new trajectory. The _Hercules_ had now begun its final voyage - Bishop only hoped that the others would manage to get off the ship before he had completed his first initial run around the planet…

* * *

_How did they manage to build all this in such short time?_ It was a thought that all three humans silently shared. The tunnel they had entered extended as far as the eye could see and it gave a sickening feeling to walk across the encrusted surfaces. Not just because of its appearance or because they knew that the aliens had to be around here somewhere – but because the resinous material they crossed over was freshly applied. It hadn't hardened yet. Hicks and Fixer's boots made squishy sounds with each step they took and sticky, gelatinous filaments trailed off their soles each time they lifted their feet. It was slimy, gross, _disgusting!_ And as if that wasn't enough, the corridor felt incredibly hot. There was a fine mist of steam hanging in the air.

"Those creatures… do they like the heat?" Fixer asked breathlessly.

"I think it's safe to say that they do," Hicks replied. "When I first encountered them they had built their nest under the primary heat exchangers of an atmosphere processor. It was hot as a furnace down there. It's obviously the ideal environment for their kind."

"Then I think I know why they choose to settle down here. We're right beneath the steam-pipes of the water-cooling systems for the engines. The heated water is being led away from there and is used to warm up the habitat sections of the ship. Those creatures of yours must've cracked the pipes and somehow channeled the steam into these walls they built."

"That's a theory as good as any." Hicks said, wincing as he stepped in a puddle of the slimy substance that splashed up on his trousers – it made him slip. He almost dropped the quiet Newt as he stumbled, but she held on to his neck. The puddle had been invisible in the vitreous surroundings, and there was not much of illumination to make out any deviations – all the lights of the corridor had been either covered by the epoxy-like crust or been smashed. It was because of that darkness that he had failed to spot the first alien until he had rounded a bulkhead. It stood poised against a wall, spitting out a spray of slime from its mouth on to a weird mass of form that he couldn't make out. It looked like it was embedding some kind of obstacle within the translucent resin.

"Oh, my god!" Fixer exclaimed as he saw the behemoth. He had never actually seen any of the creatures for what they really were until now – the only specimen he had seen thus far was the carcass Bishop had brought up to the ship. But since it had been dead, Fixer hadn't quite gotten the full grasp on the ferocity a live one really displayed. The alien turned its elongated head and looked at the three intruders. The humans gasped, halted in their tracks – but Hicks composed himself almost instantly. "Quickly – make sure you point the rifle at me!" he told Fixer. "Let them see it!"

Fixer complied. The alien hissed as it seemed to realize the danger that was presented towards the unborn queen – it made no move.

"Okay, let's move – nice and easy." Hicks felt the girl tense up as he moved closer to the alien in order to walk past it. She grabbed on much more tightly to his neck but made no form of sound at all. Even her breathing was subdued. As a security measure, Hicks held his gun ready to shoot in case the creature would try anything. But all it did was to follow them with its gaze as they crept by almost on tiptoes. They could now see what was embedded in the wall and they almost gagged at the sight. It was the cannibalized remains of a human – of whom it had been they couldn't tell and they didn't want to know. What was clear was that the aliens had consumed the carcass of its meat and now used the skeleton to serve as a 'decoration' for the nest. There was other stuff within there as well: collected junk of utensils from the mess-hall, tools, broken machinery and even rocket shells from the hangar. All was used as filler-material for the nest they were building.

As the humans continued to identify the stuff the creatures had gathered, another alien moved past them from behind right above their heads, crawling without any difficulties along the roof with more collected stuff under its arm that it had scrounged up from somewhere. This one didn't pay the humans any attention at all - it just went on with its task of creating the crèche, completely oblivious to the fact that the work was all a waste. Soon the ship was going to be destroyed and they with it.

The humans kept their eyes on the first drone even though they had passed it. The alien seemed to have lost interest in them though – it went back to its previous task and paid the three no more attention. Hicks thought that perhaps they were home-free now – he turned… and came face to face with another alien – close enough for them to only stretch out and touch one another. Newt' face creased into a silent scream, but no sound was emitted from her throat. Fixer tensed up and made a show of pointing the rifle he was holding at the corporal, threatening to fire. Hicks raised his gun-arm, pointing the muzzle at the blank eye-less forehead above the row of teeth which was continuously dripping mucous to the floor.

"Let us pass!" Hicks automatically ordered the menacing creature, although the alien had no way of understanding the instruction. It didn't move at all - it only observed them, staring at the three. _How could it stare at them? It had no eyes!_ But Hicks knew that it definitely was staring at them. There was a rumble of a hissing breathing coming from the depths of its throat, a vapor was exhaled from its mouth, but it made no advancement towards them.

Hicks figured that he had to be imagining things, but he got this weird sensation in the back of his mind that he was registering something – that there was some kind of thought that came to him of what the creature in front of them was actually thinking right now.

_Soft prey!_

Was that what the creature was really thinking at the moment?

_Where will you go?_

It was unknown how the aliens communicated with each other. Hicks had never bothered to give it a thought; all he had ever cared knowing about the aliens was how to kill them. But since they didn't possess the ability to orally express words, it had to mean that they had some other method of communication: unseen signals, mind transmitting perhaps… but why would he be able to hear it?

"Get out of the way," he urged it again.

_Always the annoying sounds! Soft prey does nothing but sounding so annoyingly. The sounds have no meaning… only disturbing!_

Hicks were certain now; _he could hear them!_ But how was that possible? Had it something to do with the queen within him? Could she be receiving the thoughts of her drones and was in turn passing it to him? It didn't seem possible – there was no reason for a host to an alien to attain that kind of ability! But he had no other explanation, except maybe that it might have something to do with that jelly Bishop injected into him to make the embryo into a female. Bishop had theorized that the 'royal jelly' that was being administrated by the worker drones could be used to make changes not only in the alien larvae, but also in a host. What was it he had said? _The special substance can also be used to change the DNA-code in a human being to metamorphose him into an egg._ Could it be true? Could the jelly Bishop had injected into him have got into his bloodstream somehow, changed him? Hicks weren't a biologist – he wished that he could somehow talk to Bishop about it.

"Hicks. Make it go away!" Newt whispered in terror in his ear. Could he tell it to? If he could receive those weird transmissions the aliens used to communicate with each other, could he use the same means to tell the drone to step back? He had to try – he focused on the spot in the back of his mind where he had registered the thoughts, and input a command there. He used that area of his brain as a point of origin, and then he directed it to the warrior in front of him. - _You will step back. You will let us pass._

_Why? Where will you go?_

_\- We do not belong here._

_But you do! You bear the queen. You are ours! And the two small ones shall be the first to bear her young._

Hicks were 'talking' to the alien – but the others couldn't hear what was being said. And the silence of the stand-off was starting to get to Fixer. "Hicks. What am I going to do? Shall I fire?"

"Wait," Hicks told him. "I think I got this."

"Got what?" The corporal ignored the mechanic's last question. He changed tactics as he addressed the alien again: _\- The small one behind me will kill me if you don't let us pass – and with me: your queen._

The drone hissed. _The queen must not be harmed!_

_\- For the safety of the queen, you must let us pass._

_We can _kill_ the little soft prey!_

_\- But not before he kills me! Let us pass and his guard will drop. The queen will be born shortly and afterwards the soft prey won't be able to harm her. Then she will come to you._

_That is how things will be. You may go._

_\- You will not follow us._

_We don't need to. No matter where you go, you are already ours._ To everybody's astonishment, the alien stepped aside. "Let's go before they change their minds." Hicks said and started to walk in a fast pace.

"What did you do?" Fixer asked, totally bewildered.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Although Hicks was certain that the aliens wouldn't touch them now, he hurried along the corridor now sprinting. The sticky surface of the encrusted resin continued to make squishy sounds as he ran over it, but it was easier to ignore now. The most trouble he really had was that his arm was growing tired of carrying Newt for a long time, but he wasn't prepared to let her down yet. He saw light ahead – the exit of the crèche was near. He would be happy to be out of there.

Only a few meters remained when Fixer made a sound like something had turned his stomach. "Eew. It's Dr. Roman and her assistant! Poor devils – they've been torn to pieces!" Hicks stopped in his tracks and looked over at the wall. Sure enough, it was the remains of the chief medtech and her assistant embedded in the resinous material – although it was mostly the torsos and faces left, permanently creased into agony from the moment of their deaths. Limbs and many other chunks of meat were missing. But that wasn't what was important – what was to be noted were the fact that the bodies were out here! Those two had died within quarantine, sealed inside together with a misshaped alien by Colonel Decker! If the bodies were out here…

"Oh my God!" Hicks gulped. "We're right outside quarantine! And it's been opened! They've released it!"

"Released what?" Fixer asked.

"Let's get out of here before…" But Hicks didn't get to finish that sentence. Something jumped down from the roof in front of them, blocking the exit. Newt whimpered as the creature rose to its full but shortened height and displayed its maniacal grin. It was the misfit – the crazed alien!

Just like with the previous drone, Hicks raised his gun and used the back of his mind to communicate with it. _– Get back! You will let us pass!_ He received a response, but it was not a pleasant feeling. The thoughts from the crazed one actually stung in the back of his mind!

_**Playthings! Softies!**_

_\- You cannot hurt us! You will risk the death of your queen!_

_**Play! Rip! Little softies to open up!**_

_-I'm carrying your queen!_ But the crazed one wasn't listening to that. Instead it was lashing its tail back and forth, its grin becoming even wider. Hicks remembered now that this creature was permanently inebriated. It came from Private Dagger who had been intoxicated with JOY, the synthetic drug that took away all inhibitions of the user. The drug had been integrated to the alien when it grew inside the addict and the unnatural substance had misshaped it, making it short in height compared to the normal drones and somewhat flattened. It would have been comical to look at hadn't it been so unpredictable and dangerous. Apparently it also made it totally unreasonable!

Hicks were left with no choice. The crazed alien was undoubtedly going to attack them despite the fact that Hicks was carrying a queen. The corporal straightened out the arm that held the gun and fired. Several rounds hit the crazed drone, but it didn't seem to notice it! In fact its hide appeared to be impenetrable – the bullets only ricocheted off it! The bullets did break the chitin skin, drawing small droplets of yellow blood, but those quickly healed over.

Not only was it unreasonable, it was also impervious to pain! It had given no reaction of discomfort whatsoever! It crouched, waving its tail repeatedly, preparing to jump them. That was it, Hicks thought. They were trapped, and no alternatives were open to them – except one. The promise he had made before they had entered the crèche…

"Close your eyes, baby…" he whispered to Newt. She understood completely. She shut her eyes as the adult pointed the muzzle of the gun at her forehead…

Before he had time to pull the trigger though, the crazed alien struck with its massive scorpion tail… and it was suddenly blocked by another tail before it could hit. A normal alien drone roared with threat at the misfit – Hicks could hear the exchanged information exploding in the back of his mind.

_DON'T ENDANGER THE QUEEN!_

The misfit stopped grinning and roared back. _**The softies are mine to play with!**_

_The queen must not be harmed!_

_**I no care about a queen!**_

That exchange took the normal drone by surprise. _The crèche must have a queen,_ it said. _It is the order of things!_

_**A new order there is now! My order! To oblivion with the queen! I am king!**_

The normal drone hissed in warning again, totally bewildered by the challenge that had been made by one of their own. Hicks weren't surprised though – it was quite common among drug addicts to feel delusions of superiority above everything when they were high on narcotics. And the crazed alien was always high on the drugs it itself produced.

_You are _insane!_ You already destroyed the two eggs we found!_

_**Soft things! Fun to rip apart!**_

_Now you threaten the queen! You are a threat to the crèche! _

_**I am powerful! I am king!**_

_You are a failed offspring! You are unfit! You are…_ The rest of the exchange was not within Hicks' capability to register – he was getting quite a headache from the argument and it was also becoming such a heated debate that he couldn't make out anything more of it anyway. But the intention was clear: he could make that out just by listening to the hisses and roars that was thrown across the tunnel they were in. They were prepared to rip each other's throats off – the problem was that the three humans were in the risk of getting caught between them.

"Be ready to run." he told Fixer.

"I've been ready for that from the moment we went in here."

The two aliens all but shrieked menacingly now, their postures were aggressive and relentless. Their screams attracted all the other warriors as well – they came crawling, ready to defend the colony. The misfit in its crazed state was the first to attack; it jumped at its brother, claws extended to pierce the other's torso.

The normal warrior was not unprepared though. It made its own charge and the two creatures collided in midair. The impact was so powerful that it sent a ripple through the air which caused the ears of the humans to pop – the combined momentum knocked both of them over to the side of the corridor, leaving the path clear.

"Now!" Hicks called and broke into a run with Fixer following right behind him - none of the other aliens made a move to pursue them. The two combatants were all immersed in their rage now as they wrestled on the floor, shrieking, biting and cutting at each other.

The normal warrior was strong, but the misfit had no inhibitions and it could not feel pain – those facts gave the crazed alien the ability to push itself harder, well beyond the point of its already inhuman strength. The death-cry of the warrior made Hicks look back and he saw the misfit alien ripping open his brother's chest like when a diner was prying apart the shell of a crayfish. Yellow blood sprayed everywhere, over the aliens and on the walls. The aliens were not affected, but the fluid flowed down alongside the smooth crust of resin that covered the original walls of the corridor. It formed a puddle that in turn flowed out of the alien tunnel like a small river, onto the real floor of the ship. The deck-plates instantly began to bubble and melt as the acid ate through them. It didn't bother the aliens present – they were busy attacking the misfit. But to the three humans it meant an impending catastrophe!

"Not again!" Hicks sputtered out as a large hole formed in the deck. He had already been through that when he had led the 'Rawhides' on his failed renegade mission to dispose of the eggs in section twelve. The acidic blood from the facehuggers they had shot to pieces had eaten through all the decks below and out into clear space, causing a large portion of the ship to decompress. Now the same was going to happen again!

"RUN!" Hicks shouted as he took a tighter grip onto Newt and broke off into an escape. His mind raced as he rushed along the corridor: – how much time did they have before the acid had eaten through every deck? Where is the closest door? How much damage did Morse do to the security computer in main engineering? Hicks remembered that the computer's connection to the PA-systems at least was severed, but was it still functioning enough to detect the structural damage to the hull again? In a situation like this it was better to be safe than sorry – he tried to run faster, but it wasn't easy. He usually was a fast sprinter, but his new lung was still not fully adapted to his previous physiological condition before his 'death' – he was growing tired fast and it didn't make it any easier that he carried a 33-pound child in his arms. A weight that wasn't a problem for him under normal circumstances, the girl was actually quite light for her age because of her state of malnutrition and other recent sicknesses - but it did become a burden after an extended period of time. Fixer had it worse though, his short legs made it hard for him to keep up.

Something was obviously still working – to Hicks' horror; the door in front of them was starting to slide shut, sealing off the area that was about to become exposed to vacuum. Hicks was determined that they would _not_ be trapped again! Summoning all the reserves he had and allowing the panic within him to fuel his muscles even more, he grabbed on to Fixer's arm and hurled himself and the two smaller people right past the closing door just in the nick of time before it sealed. They slid over the deck on the other side and the howls of the fighting creatures were cut off by the barrier that had rolled into place. Hicks looked up, feeling the tension draining back out of him as he saw that the other two seemed to be all right. Fixer was pale and sweaty from the running – Newt was trembling and terrified, but also evidently relived to be out of the alien tunnel. The corporal was proud of both of them.

"Be ready. Any moment now…"

The two looked confused – they didn't know what Hicks was warning them about. Then the _Hercules_ suddenly jumped violently, just as it had the first time a large portion of air had blown out into space. Hicks felt a grim satisfaction – the decompression had got to have killed all the aliens! One problem solved! Unfortunately they weren't out of the woods yet – the ship was still on a collision course with the derelict on the surface. They had to get off of it before it was too late. Pulling up his two wards on their feet, they resumed their own course towards the escape vehicles.


	22. Reentry

Bishop was at the moment not happy. He had expected the ship to rock sooner or later, but that should have been hardly noticeable. When an EEV was to be launched, the gyro-stabilizers would receive this information and compensate for the sudden escape of mass. But this jump in space that the ship just had made had been completely unexpected. Bishop checked the read-outs from damage-control: another large portion of the ship had suddenly been depressurized, including the section where his friends had to go through to get to the escape vehicles. He could only theorize how that had happened, and there were many possible outcomes where he could conclude that his friends had either perished or survived. He had no way to tell which scenario could be the actual event that had transpired, his available data was limited thanks to the fact that Morse had smashed many of the systems in main engineering.

The android decided to put his trust in Hicks' resourcefulness and assume that the three humans had indeed survived. If they hadn't it wouldn't change anything for Bishop's part. He still intended to put the _Hercules_ into a collision course with the alien derelict. He checked his altitude: the violent escape of air had thrown the ship into a higher orbit - it was that which he was not happy about. He would have to compensate now and put the nose of the ship into a little steeper dive or he would overshoot his mark. But the helm was starting to act sluggish, like if the _Hercules_ already was facing gravitational resistance. But it couldn't be as he was still too high up. The gravity was weak - practically non-existent, and yet there was something trying to yank the ship out of its course. The only explanation Bishop could think of was that Morse must've done a lot more damage to the key-systems in engineering than the felon had intended - some of the stabilizers must have short-circuited from various overloads. Out in the airless space it was still possible to make it a smooth flight, but it was going to become much worse as soon as the gravity of the planetoid below would get a tighter grip on the massive bulk. This was going to be a tougher ride than he had first anticipated.

* * *

The hangar-bay for the emergency escape vehicle wasn't much to look at as it was not meant to be occupied. It was more of a metallic pit rather than a room, lined with supporting pillars and bulks and a mass network of pipes and conduits. When the three humans entered the hangar from the corridor, they stepped onto a simple catwalk high up in the ceiling with a circular staircase leading down to the bottom of the room. The EEV itself was not entirely visible as it was integrated with the interior hulls – only the trained eye could make out where the actual bulk of the ship connected to the vehicle. The main difference to the EEV's aboard the _Hercules_ compared to others was that these vehicles were armed. A big gun-turret, not unlike those seen mounted on an APC occupied the center of the 'floor' which was the roof of the escape shuttle. That was an addition made by Colonel Decker – from his point of view; you could never know when a tactical advantage would present itself where you really had a great need of a big gun, even in an EEV. It was an ugly room, but Hicks was glad to see it anyway.

"We made it," he told the others with relief. Fixer responded in agreement with a simple inarticulate grunt while Newt opted for her usual silence. They quickly descended the stairs and they came down to a trench in the floor. The metallic crevice was a walkway that separated the EEV from the larger mother-ship, leading to the airlock on the side of the shuttle. Hicks punched and twisted a few buttons and handles, unlocking the hatch. The door of the airlock rolled aside and allowed the three escapees to enter. The inside of it looked unnecessarily vast and spacious, as if there was a large portion of equipment missing. On the far end there were a couple of chairs in front of a dashboard under a view-port. It was the pilots' seats and Hicks went directly towards those and sat down. Wasting no time he allowed his hands to dance above the controls, hitting several switches. The control-board came to life.

"I'm activating the pre-launch cycle," he informed the others. "We'll just give the systems a few minutes to do a routine check on operational status before we release the moorings. Then some of the cryonic sleeper-units from upstairs will be loaded and we'll launch and escape this flying tomb."

"That'll be a relief," Fixer answered with anticipation. "Never expected this big vessel to become a house with so many bad memories – I for one won't miss it."

Hicks nodded. "If all goes according to plan, a memory is all the _Hercules_ soon will be – both it and that accursed ship that brought the creatures to this planet. With any luck, that will be the last the galaxy will ever hear about the monsters! Wouldn't you agree, Newt?"

The girl didn't answer. She didn't want to give voice to the creeping feeling that lurked in her stomach. Ever since her parents had died she had only had her own instincts to rely on and even now those gave her a feeling of unease although she didn't know why or what. Maybe it had something to do with the EEV itself. Although she had no recollection of the exact events, she had actually died within a vessel like this. To put her trust in a machine that had failed her once before didn't feel right – but she knew that it was something more than that that gave her the jitters. Bishop had told her that he was incapable of having premonitions, but she wondered if that applied to her as well. Newt was starting to think that she did in fact have some sort of a foreboding that something bad was going to happen and it was that which made her nervous. That nervousness increased when a problem showed up.

"Aw, crap!" Hicks cursed. "There's a security-block installed in the systems to prevent unauthorized tampering! I can't bring down any cryo-tubes here, and the EEV won't launch without them! I can't even release the moorings!" He turned to Fixer. "Is there some way you can break the code?"

"I doubt it," the little man replied. "Those military codes are almost impossible to slice – they're designed to keep civilian personal out. It requires someone with military training to countermand it."

"And I don't think Bishop has time to do it for us even if I could contact him. Damn, I actually wish I had Hudson here now – he was the com-tech of my unit. He may have been cocky, but he was good with this form of stuff."

"Well, maybe there is something I still can do," Fixer said. "The control-circuits for signaling the sleepers to come down should be located outside right above the chute behind us. If I can tap in to those then maybe I can short-circuit the locks and bring them down here manually."

"Fixer, if you can do that, then you're indeed a genius!"

The midget mechanic looked proud. "Well then, I better get out and get started then. I don't find the idea appealing to be on this boat when Bishop sends it down crashing." Fixer exited the EEV and went up the same way they had come. The access-port he needed was located within a supporting bulkhead on the other end of the catwalk they had stepped out on, right above the giant chute. The chute in question was a wide diagonally built shaft, which led up to the cryogenic compartment were the sleeper-pods resided two decks above them. Only a short stump of it was visible inside the hangar, terminating right above the back of the EEV. Passing the entrance door in the middle of the catwalk which still stood open, Fixer reached the bulkhead that housed the control-circuits. It was a good thing he was always prepared for maintenance anywhere he got, he had tools in his pouches adequate for unlatching the access-panel – but he really missed the tool he had misplaced somewhere. After quickly identifying which of the circuit-boards controlled the desired systems, he wire-crossed some cables to hot-wire a power-surge through one of the boards. He got the effect he wanted – the whole back-section of the EEV opened up like the trunk of an automobile, ready to receive some large luggage. The angle was a bit steep, but Hicks and Newt could now see Fixer through the grate of the catwalk through the open back of the vehicle where they sat waiting for him in the pilot seats.

"It looks good here," Hicks called up to him. "How are you doing?"

"Getting there," The mechanic called back down. "But I really miss my polysizable screwdriver. Can't understand where I could have lost it." Hicks missed it as he was looking in another direction, but Newt looked a little bit shocked.

A klaxon suddenly rang out within the hangar - Fixer had to shout to be heard over the noise. "Get ready! Here it comes!" A low rumble was now heard from the farthest end of the chute, a rumble that became immensely higher as a large object came sliding down within it to their level. A short moment later a row of four cryogenic cylinders emerged from the mouth of the chute and came to sudden a stop on the support rack within the EEV with such a loud crash that Newt had to cover her ears. Hidden power-receivers on the rack of tubes connected to the EEV's main power supply as they became automatically locked in position and a green light flared up on the control board. The bay-door of the vehicle closed and locked itself, also on automatic.

Hicks gave a report that was filled with satisfaction. "We're good to go, as soon as the moorings are released."

The statement of them being ready to depart made Newt grow impatient. Why wasn't Fixer returning already? She went over to the still open airlock, leaned halfway out and called up towards the catwalk above her. "Hurry, Fixer! Let's go!"

"I'm just disengaging the last anchor now," he called back. However Newt did not hear that as her little body suddenly froze. From the still open door to the corridor outside the hangar, a shadow had entered. A shadow with a distinctive shape that she was all too familiar with and which always filled her with a tremendous terror.

"Fixer! B-behind you!" the child called out in both fright and disbelief. The midget mechanic turned around and came face to face with a feature-less and grinning head. It was _the_ grin. The maniacal smile of the crazed alien! "_Fixer, get out of there!_" Newt now cried in panic. Hicks heard the change in her voice and came rushing to her side. Leaning out, he got the full extent of the situation. He did not know how the crazed alien had survived the decompression – he could not even begin to guess how the misshaped behemoth could even have gotten out of the sealed area. It was a mystery he would never learn the answer to and in the end the knowledge of that would make no difference anyhow. The crazed creature had caught up with them – that was all there was to be concerned with!

Fixer was totally overwhelmed by his own dread and tried to move away from the advancing creature – but there was nowhere for him to go, his back was already pressed against the bulkhead where he had done his work. He considered going over the railing, but the creature was too close - it would with ease catch him in an instant. The mechanic knew that he was trapped. Newt knew it too.

"Hicks, please… Do _something!_" she pleaded.

The corporal didn't know what he could really do, but he did know that he had to try something! Drawing the gun he had captured from Colonel Decker's office, he fired a few rounds on the alien to try to distract it and hopefully leave an opening for their midget friend to escape. But as before, the bullets just bounced of the creature's elongated skull, drawing no reaction at all. Either it was ignoring the bullets or it was so far gone in its crazed state that it really didn't notice the impacts. The misfit was after all impervious to pain. Hicks could hear its thoughts in the back of his mind…

_**Little softie! Rip! Tear! Make squishy noises!**_ The crazed alien's arms shot out and grabbed Fixer by his head and the maniacal smile became even wider. The little man's realization of his upcoming death was evident on his face as he felt the enormous hands pressing on the sides of his skull. His eyes sought Hicks', pleading for salvation. Hicks' own face convulsed with sorrow – he knew what had to be done, the most merciful thing to do.

"I'm sorry!" he said full of remorse – and then he put a round through Fixer's brain, killing him instantly.

Newt let out an anguished wail as the finality of her friend's fate dawned on her and Hicks had to force her (after he'd thrown away the now empty and useless gun) inside the EEV and closing the airlock. The crazed alien remained where it was; bewildered on how the straining form it was about to rip apart had just suddenly gone completely limp.

There was absolutely nothing left for them aboard the _Hercules_ now. After making sure that the airlock was completely sealed, Hicks carried the struggling girl further within the vehicle, towards the pilot seats.

"_We got to save him!_" Newt screamed out of control, struggling against his hold on her. "_We can't leave him! We got to save him!_"

"He's _gone_, Newt!" Hicks had to tell her firmly. "There's nothing more we can do for him!"

"_You _killed_ him!_" she shot at him, her voice filled with accusation.

"He was dead as soon as that thing got its hands on him! What I did was merciful compared to what it was going to do!"

It wasn't easy to strap the child into the co-pilots seat; her sorrow had turned into frenzy, and she tried to hit him with hands and feet. It was only because he knew that she was in the midst of grief and because he liked her so much that he restrained himself from responding harshly to her attacks. Besides, he would never in his life hit a child. As soon as he was finished, he sat down in his own seat and firmly hit the button that said 'launch'. Exterior locks opened up and a hull-plate of the _Hercules_ fell away into space from beneath them. The EEV tilted slightly and its engines hummed to life. Outside in the hangar another alarm blared and it caught the attention of the misfit alien. Losing interest in the dead meat it was holding, it swung its flattened head down towards the sinking mass of a metal body. Somewhere in its crazed foggy mind it remembered that there were more soft living meat inside that shell that was falling away and they were about to escape! That was unacceptable! Dropping the corpse, already dismissed and forgotten; the crazed alien jumped over the railing just as the EEV jettisoned into space and left the _Hercules_ behind.

At the helm, Hicks leveled out and laid in a course towards the surface of the planet. He only hoped that he remembered his training – it had been a long time since he'd piloted a flying craft. He could have engaged the automatic pilot, but he didn't want to risk any more unexpected surprises in the programming. It was better to be safe than sorry and put the craft down on his own. Newt wasn't in a fighting mood anymore – she sat motionless in her seat, sobbing. Another friend had been taken away from her because of the aliens, and this loss was one whom she had regarded as a form of an uncle. His death was even more painful though, because she felt that she had guilt in it.

Hicks would not disturb her in any way right now – it was better to let her deal with her grief for a moment. To his surprise, he thought he heard a disembodied voice calling his name.

"Hicks. Are you there?" Hicks realized that the voice came from the radio. He hit the answer-button:

"Bishop? Is that you?"

"Affirmative. The displays up here on the bridge showed the launch of your EEV. I'm glad to see that you got away after all, considering the new decompression inside the ship."

"Not all of us got away," Hicks said with sadness. "Fixer bought our escape with his life."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Bishop said with the formality he always displayed. What else could anyone expect from an android? "Listen, I'm tracking your trajectory and there's a slight problem. Your present course will land you in the vicinity of the crash-site of the alien derelict. The blast-radius of the explosion that will follow from the _Hercules'_ destruction might cause some severe damage to the EEV if you get too close. I'm feeding new coordinates into your navigational computer – follow them and you should land in a relatively safe distance from my target."

Hicks checked the computer. "I've got them, Bishop. I'm changing course."

"And I'm initiating my second circle around the planet. At present speed, I estimate to make contact in 53 minutes."

"We should be down in 25," was Hicks' reply. That's how long it would take to go down in a dropship – an EEV was different in configuration, but the flight procedure was basically the same. The difference was that the EEV wasn't designed to take off back into space again once it had settled down.

Bishop's voice returned. "We've already settled our goodbyes, so I won't get into any more dramatics here. I'm just saying good luck – to us all."

"Much obliged, Bishop," Hicks said. The android signed off. "We're going to need it," he muttered to the now silent radio. He watched as the big cruiser moved away in high speed from them as it was carrying a much greater velocity – it would disappear beyond the terminator before the EEV would make entry into the atmosphere. Hicks looked over at Newt – tears were still streaming down her face.

"I know it won't make it feel any better," he started to tell her. "But I'm certain that Fixer would want you to go on. He gave his life for you."

"But it was my _fault!_" she said with a quivering voice. Hicks looked at her with bewilderment.

"Why do you think that?" he asked her.

"He said that he had lost his special screwdriver!" The girl fished something out of her pocket. "I still _have_ it!" she exclaimed, holding up the expensive tool. "I used it when we were doing maintenance together and I forgot to return it after I got sick. If he had had it, then maybe he would've have been done faster and the alien wouldn't have got to him!"

Hicks shook his head. "That would've have made no difference whatsoever, Newt. He had other tools in his pockets which he made good time with. The alien would've got to him anyway – you are not to blame for anything."

"It stills feels like my fault," she said lowly. She leaned back in her seat and gazed out the windshield. "It feels like…" But then she stiffened and let out a primordial child's scream. Hicks followed her gaze and were shocked. On top of the windshield, the eyeless, grinning face of the crazed alien was watching them through the glass from the outside.

* * *

Bishop shut off all the non-essential systems of the ship. Every heat-exchanger, ventilation system and power-supply, even life-support: everything was shut down. The ship was devoid of all life now: there was no need to keep anything that was essential for a crew running. Instead Bishop diverted all that power into the system he now needed the most: navigational operations and heat-shields. He needed every ounce of energy he could muster in order to keep the ship in doing the task he required of it for as long as he could. As the levels of power to the heat-shields reached its peak, Bishop turned the ship into a dive. A screeching sound thundered through the bulkheads of the _Hercules_ as the ship entered the atmosphere of Acheron – it was the scream of air being ripped asunder as Bishop ploughed straight into it. The big cruiser started to vibrate with atmospheric drag, but the android kept the helm leveled so that he would not deviate from his course – at least as best as he could. For some reason the helm seemed to fight him. It couldn't be the ship's computer trying to countermeasure his actions, Bishop made sure to keep ahead of it the whole time. No, there was _something else_ that tried to force the _Hercules_ back up into space - an outside interference that seemed to have taken hold of the controls.

Bishop reached down underneath the dashboard. He grabbed on to the edge of a service-panel and yanked it off. He fidgeted with the wires within, until he found the circuits that connected the helm to the automatic pilot. He ripped out those wires, hoping that the interference would stop. It didn't! Some other system was at work here. He would have to pull every plug within until he found what was causing the resistance.

Suddenly a voice boomed throughout the bridge: "Save the effort, _Robot!_ You can't stop me!"

Had Bishop been human, he would have been shocked. But he was advanced enough to simulate a surprise. The voice spoken was unmistakable!

"Colonel Decker?!"

There was an explosion of pixels showing on all of the display-screens on the bridge. The pixels gathered in the center of each screen, melting together and formed a digital human-like head. The stone-cold face of Colonel Decker glared icily at Bishop from every console that had a screen.

"Surprised?" the voice in the ship's speakers said.

"Very," Bishop admitted. "I thought that all of your functions ceased when we destroyed your body."

"Did you really think you could destroy me that easily?" the digital image spat. "My body may have been damaged to immobility, but my mind is still in working order! I had long anticipated a moment like this. Through a modem that I had secretly installed I have by using radio-waves linked my mind to my personal workstation in my office. I _am_ the ship now!"

"Not entirely!" Bishop countered. "I've got control of the _Hercules_' propulsion and navigation. I've already set the course! I'll destroy you together with this ship!"

The picture of Colonel Decker grimaced. "That idiot Morse smashed a couple of the key-systems back in main engineering. I can't get full control, but I got _enough_ to stop your scheme! You may be able to destroy this ship, but you will _not_ destroy the derelict! I'll make sure of that!" Bishop tested the levers: the controls were now frozen. He could not decrease his altitude into a steeper dive, the colonel wouldn't let him. On the other hand, the colonel couldn't break off the ship's orbital dive and return to space – Bishop wouldn't let _him_.

"Why are you doing this?" Bishop asked. "Why do you want to preserve this species?"

"I don't _care_ about this species," the digital image of the colonel snarled. "What I care about is following my orders! The Company wants these specimens and I'm going to make sure they get them, one way or another! I may not be able to deliver them, but I can leave them behind for Weyland to collect them later if he wishes. Perhaps you've forgotten the main military rule that I go by? The mission _always_ comes first!"

Bishop tried for the controls again, but the levers wouldn't budge. He was on a too high altitude. If Bishop didn't find a way to countermand Decker's interference, he would overshoot the plateau were the derelict rested and he would miss his target and then his sacrifice would be in vain. Time remaining until contact was 47 minutes. It seemed to be plenty of time, but for two relentless androids that would not give in to the other, it was neither an eternity nor a limitation. You would either be a winner or a loser when the 47 were up – nothing else existed for them. And the _Hercules_ continued on its flight of doom towards the surface of LV-426…

* * *

Was there no end to the creatures' obstinacy? Hicks tried to bank the EEV hard in an attempt to shake the misfit beast off their hull - but it held on, unaffected by the hard maneuvers and propulsion. It was even unaffected by the hard vacuum of space. All the while as Hicks tried new maneuvers to make the alien lose its grip, it continued to stare at the two passengers inside through the windshield, giving them its hideous and unnatural smile as if it was mocking them.

_**Little softies! **_Hicks could hear him in the back of his mind._** Come out and play! Rip you! Tear you!**_

Newt was close to panic. "Hicks! Get it off! Please!"

"I'm trying!" He tried to do a roll, but the EEV wouldn't respond to that. The craft was after all an escape vehicle and was not designed for tactical maneuvers – Hicks could just as well be flying a brick. The crazed alien now began to pound on the windshield. Hicks could feel the vibrations coursing through the EEV from each strike the alien made with its inhuman strength – if he didn't manage to stop the alien, it could very well manage to break through the barrier and then they would suffocate. But no matter how much he tried, Hicks couldn't shake it off – and that's when he remembered something important: maybe he could _shoot_ it off! This EEV was, unlike the average units of other military cruisers, _armed!_

Hicks activated the weapons systems on his control board. A TV-screen flickered to life and a target-grid was displayed on the screen, showing the view from the cannon tower on top of the vessel. With a flick of a small joystick, Hicks moved the big gun on the roof to point in the direction right above the cockpit – he could see the alien down in the bottom-half of the screen.

The windshield began to show a crack from the alien's repeated pounding. Thankfully it was just one layer of three – but if he was to let it continue, the alien would manage to crack the other layers as well. Hicks hit a button and the big gun fired. His aim was good, but the angle was all wrong. The alien was positioned too close and too low in front of the cannon tower as it crouched over the windshield, so most projectiles went by above it. But there were some that managed to nick it, and the impacts were powerful enough to draw the alien's attention away from the humans and towards the new threat. Hicks fired off a new burst that once again overshot the monstrous stowaway – but this time the alien didn't stay put. With an incredible agility, the creature quickly crawled away from the windshield and over to the cannon-tower. Before Hicks could do something else from inside the craft, the crazed alien grabbed on to the twin barrels and pried them apart with its enormous strength. A red warning light that said 'Weapons malfunction' flashed on the board in front of the pilot's seat. It would not be possible to fire that thing now.

No sounds could be heard outside in space, but the steel hull of the EEV carried the noise inside the vehicle of the alien ripping the cannon-tower to pieces. The body of the Emergency Escape Vehicle creaked as the external piece of armory was forcibly detached from its rotational base on the roof, and Hicks momentarily feared that they would suffer an atmospheric containment breach. Fortunately the base platform was reinforced and designed for easy disassembling of the cannon-tower, so the hull held.

The cannon were only a worthless piece of scrap now, not that the alien understood the concept of that. All that it perceived was that the threat had been neutralized and the remains of the weapon were simply discarded into space. The crazed creature spent no time looking after the gun-tower as it floated away in the direction it had been thrown – the alien had already forgotten all about it. But it had not forgotten about the soft prey that still lingered within the shell it was riding on. The alien crawled back to its original position on top of the windshield and glared at the two little creatures inside once more. It longed to grab on to them, to feel that soft flesh peel away from their brittle skeleton underneath and ripping them apart. It smiled in anticipation of that. It just needed to break through the hard invisible barrier to get to them.

Hicks had known that the creature would come after them again after it had been finished with the cannon – what he hoped for was that the distraction had bought them enough time. The EEV was shaking now as it entered the upper atmosphere of LV-426 and the gravity-pull grabbed on to them. The trembling didn't seem to bother the misfit; instead it resumed its pounding on the windshield in its attempt to break it. The second layer of the windshield now began to give in to the inhuman force.

Hicks turned to Newt who sat silently now, just watching the behemoth outside in fear. "Hang on, kid. Now comes the rough part."

"It's going to break in…" she whispered in hopelessness.

"It won't have time for that anymore," he replied to her, feeling more secured now. The EEV started to shake violently of the reentry through the atmosphere, but Hicks ignored that. Instead he let his concentration focus to the back of his mind, to the area which for some reason had formed the ability to communicate with the aliens. He was sending a message to the crazed creature outside who was just about to deliver the final blow that would crack the windshield.

_\- You are doomed, you creep. Look at your tail. Look at your tail!_

Somewhere in the midst of the alien's inebriated state of mind it received the message and turned its elongated flattened head around and saw what was going on. Its scorpion-tail was on _fire!_ In fact the whole body of the EEV was now glowing hot from atmospheric friction of the reentry. The two humans sat safely inside shielded from the rising heat – no such protection existed on the outside hull. Flames were building up around the EEV, engulfing both it and the alien riding on the top. No longer grinning, the alien began to scream as its chitin hide was set ablaze. But Hicks sensed it wasn't screaming in pain – it was actually roaring in defiance. Its rage boomed inside Hicks mind.

_**Impudent wretches! You dare making me burn? **_Those weren't its exact words of course, but the closest resemblance of describing the agitated state of mind that went through its head translated into letters. Chips of charred silicon-based skin now began to flake off its body as the fire consumed it even more.

_**This is an outrage! I will not die!**_ _**I have magnificent plans! I cannot be defeated! I am king! I am invincible! Invincible!**_ That was a typical conceit that could be found in many drug-addicted people, believing them to be immortal. But although it defied its own mortality in its intoxicated mind, it could not defy the laws of physics. With a final roar of protest, the crazed alien was disintegrated, incinerated by the atmospheric friction – blackened particles flew upwards like a fountain and spread all over the sky of Acheron were they would burn into atoms. Nothing of the misshaped behemoth remained on the windshield now – they were all clear.

"It's gone, Newt," Hicks said in relief. "We made it."

The child's voice was strained. "G-great. Now could you slow down this thing a bit? M-my chest really hurts!" It was a repetition from her first flight down in the beginning of the mission - the stresses of dropping in the atmosphere was threatening to tear her healing ribcage apart once again. The pain must be almost unbearable to her. Hicks fired the retro-rockets and tried to stabilize the EEV's descent. It helped – the girl seemed to relax a bit. But they were now coming into the thunderous tornado of rough air that was common to this planet. They still had just a little over twenty minutes to the surface and the winds were going to make the rest of the ride bumpy. For the child's sake, Hicks had to try to make this flight as smooth as possible. Taking the sticks in a steady grip to keep it stable, the EEV dived into the jet streams of rushing air.

* * *

On the other side of the planet, the _Hercules_ was now clearing the dark mantle of clouds that shrouded the surface of the planet. Just like its smaller companion, the big ship glowed with heat from the friction of the dirty air. Flames were licking the belly of the falling beast. Ventilation intakes were quickly clogged with particles that sailed in the hurricanes which caused overheats and electrical fires - the automatic defense systems had gone by the point where it could no longer handle it. The _Hercules_ was a dying ship. As the big cruiser fought for its survival of reentry, another battle was still raging on the bridge. Bishop had not abandoned his attempts to regain control, but neither had the computer mind of Colonel Decker relinquished it. Neither would give in.

It was ironic how it had come to this. The colonel and Bishop were more alike than either of them would be willing to admit. Both of them were originally artificial products of the Company, developed to assist humanity – it was just a difference on opinion how that aid would progress. Esteban Decker had been programmed to be a soldier while Bishop was supposed to fill in for Michael Weyland during the times when he was to be indisposed. Both of them had gone beyond their original function; Decker had escaped the recall of the experiment of an artificial army and become a military officer in the marines, avoiding detection of his true nature. Bishop had more of a lucky break before he would have been reconditioned to serve Weyland when he had been assigned to oversee the rescue-mission of the _Sulaco_ to LV-426 and where he had felt he could fulfill what he considered to be his true purpose. But unlike Decker, he had not hidden the fact that he was an artificial person.

In their own way, both were still serving humanity, but their respective methods as well as goals were different from the other. And they were both now more machine-like than either of them was comfortable with. Bishop had lost his original body to the alien queen – he was now almost completely mechanized after Fixer had rebuilt him. Decker had transferred his mind into the computer-core of the _Hercules_ after his body had been destroyed – he may be 'bigger', but he was now completely a machine nonetheless. And it was the respective programming of each machine that blindly and without yielding would fulfill their purpose, no matter what. Unfortunately it was Bishop who was on the losing side – his present course showed that he was still too high up.

The computer announced an update on the ship's status. "_Warning! This ship is on route to collision. All personnel must evacuate immediately! Time until impact: 32 minutes._" More updates on the ship's condition followed, but that was an indifferent matter to Bishop. In fact he was busy adding more faults to the damage report. Bishop kept ripping out wires and short-circuited several circuit-boards under the terminals in hopes that some electrical feedback would travel to the computer-core where Colonel Decker had stored his mind and do damage to him. All Bishop would need was just a few seconds to recalibrate his heading, but the digital image of the colonel remained unaffected.

"You're wasting your time," the image of the colonel mocked. "You forget that I am a military strategist – my specialty is to think along the lines my enemies are thinking. I have already anticipated your moves and taken precautions to protect myself from overloads. You _can't_ do damage to me from the bridge, you would have to find the memory-banks where my mind presently resides if you want to disconnect me – and you no longer have the time for that!"

"I am capable of doing some anticipations of my own," Bishop retorted. "The more this ship breaks apart, the more likely there will be severe damage to the main computer drives throughout the whole ship. You are already busy preventing me from adjusting our heading. But the more of the ship's automatic systems I can take off line, the more pressure there will be on you to keep this ship together until impact! I doubt your mind is capable to do the multitasking of damage-control and navigation at the same time."

"I'll show you just what my mind is capable of, _Robot!_"

"Hey, who are you calling robot, _Robot?_" Bishop snapped and tore off another cable. Time remaining until impact: 29 minutes.


	23. Now lay me down to sleep

Despite the harsh winds of Acheron, Hicks had managed to put the EEV down smoothly and well beyond the safe distance limit from the derelict that Bishop had radioed them that they needed so it would avoid damage from the shockwave of the upcoming explosion when the _Hercules_ would come down. But the Emergency Escape Vehicle that had liberated them from the deathtrap of the _Hercules_ had now become a new confinement. The radioactivity from the nuclear detonation of the atmosphere processing station three years earlier prevented them from going outside. If they tried to exit the EEV without protective suits, they would be irradiated and soon succumb to radiation sickness. But they were not going outside – at least Newt wasn't.

The corporal was busy shutting down all non-essential systems – they would not be needed. He was going to direct all available power to one cryogenic coffin which he was preparing – the only other equipment that were going to remain activated besides that was the emergency transmitter that was even now sending out a distress call. There were no words exchanged at the moment. Except for the steady beeping of the distress transmitter and the howling winds that raged outside, the only sound that could be heard was the little girl sobbing in her seat. This time she wasn't crying because of an after effect of the attack of the crazed alien or because of the pain she felt in her chest.

She was crying because she knew that the time had come to say goodbye. One of the worst things in life that she had experienced was loneliness. She had been alone for a long time after her people had died along with her parents and her brother. Ripley came and rescued her from that and had filled her with hope of having found a new mother in the adult - but then Ripley had died too and left the girl feeling abandoned once again. Then the aliens had killed Fixer, and Bishop was already as good as gone. And now Hicks, one whom she had started to see as a father to her was also going to disappear from her life. And all because he was carrying a monster within his chest which he was going to make sure would not be born, but that action will cost him his life. Newt cried because of her predicament; she was going to be orphaned – again! She wasn't sure she would be able to handle that. Naturally she didn't want to, but because of the aliens she was left with no choice.

Hicks came over and sat down in the seat beside her. He looked composed, but on the inside he was as sad as she was. "I won't tell you not to cry," he spoke to her softly as he wiped off the tears streaming down her face. "You have every right to." He picked her up and carried her over to the waiting hypersleep capsule in which he carefully put her down into. Newt felt apprehension course through her, a reluctance to be inside there.

"Don't worry, it'll be all right," Hicks tried to calm her. "This pod works perfectly; you will sleep safe and sound."

"That's not what happened the last time!" she objected.

"I know," he said, thinking what had happened when they had crash-landed on Fiorina 16. "But that was a different case. You will remain on this spot until a rescue comes for you and there's no water around here. That incident won't happen again." But Newt still seemed to hesitate. "Hey, try not to think about it, honey. It's not like you remember it anyway. Fortunately you were sleeping when it happened."

"That's just it. I… I don't think I was."

Hicks were shocked. "You were awake?"

"I… thought at first that I might have been dreaming – but then Bishop said that water really had come in. I think I was…" The girl couldn't continue, and Hicks had no intention on pressing her to do so. It was no wonder why she looked so afraid.

"Newt… I can only repeat what I said before. There's no water here. And even if something were to happen, I guarantee you that this time you won't notice it, because this time you will be so deep under that you won't even dream." She looked at him, waiting for him to explain.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Newt; although the distress beacon is activated, I have absolutely no idea when a rescue is going to come to pick you up. It might never happen since no one knows that the _Hercules_ has traveled here, and I doubt anyone will have any reason to come here because of the radiation. This rock has become a forbidden planet. That's why I have set the controls for a long-term hibernation – you'll fall asleep normally, but after that the pod will put you in such a deep freeze that all of your sensations will stop. You will be alive, but you will be in a complete suspended animation. You won't be aware of anything, even if something bad should happen. That's all I can do for you."

"But what about you?" she asked. "Can't you be frozen too?"

Hicks shook his head. "That's a risk I don't dare to take. Not with a queen. My last gift to you will be the total annihilation of these creatures so that they will not come after you again." Hicks tapped his chest. "This thing will not see the light of day – ever! I'll see to that."

"But you'll die," She said, breaking down once more. "I'll never see you again!"

Hicks caressed her small shoulder. "But you will remember me, won't you?" Newt responded with throwing her arms around his neck, getting into a last tight hug. "I want you to promise me something, little one."

"Anything." She choked into his ear.

"I want you to live. When you get rescued, try to put all of this behind you and live. Grow up and make a life for yourself. You're very strong… don't let the memories of the monsters take control of you."

"I'll try…" she sobbed. "I promise." Hicks reluctantly detached her arms from his neck – then he planted a kiss on her forehead before laying her down inside the sleeping capsule.

"Farewell, Newt. God bless you." Hicks hit a button and the transparent lid began to come down to seal the sarcophagus. Hicks made sure to give the child his warmest smile during the whole procedure, because that's how he wanted her to remember him. He waited to oversee the machine going to work with putting the occupant to sleep, to make sure that the drug mixtures were applied correctly. After a short while, Hicks was pleased to see that the child was now in perfect hibernation. The next step would begin now – the capsule administrated the special compound that would prevent her blood from crystallizing as the temperature would drop way below zero. Convinced that he could trust the machine to protect her life, Hicks could make the final preparations for his last mission. He opened a secure box to retrieve the third item he had lifted from Decker's office; a grenade.

Going through the storage compartments of the EEV, he found a bottle of liquor among the emergency rations. Hicks had never been one for drinking, but on this just one occasion…

After double checking all the instruments of the distress beacon and of the cryogenic chamber to make sure they showed a green-lit status, he killed all other power and left the EEV in total darkness. Throwing one last glance at the sleeping child, he directed his voice upwards. "If there really is someone up there – you watch over her! Do you hear me?" He turned around, away from the capsule, away from the helm where a compact disc, the last gift from an android, lay forgotten on the co-pilot's seat. It had fallen out of the child's pocket sometime during the trip down and none of the two had noticed it. If he didn't leave now, he would lose the last of the resolution he had. A bottle of liquor, a grenade and the rifle; that was all he was going to bring with him – the rifle was probably because he wanted to die with a weapon in his hand, like the soldier he was. He opened the airlock and stepped outside into the wasteland of LV-426. A dangerous move under normal circumstances because of the radiation, but since Hicks was going to die anyway that fact didn't bother him. The wind had during the last minutes passed calmed down quite a bit, so it would at least be a comfortable walk. He closed the airlock and sealed it tightly – nothing was going to disturb anything inside. Hicks threw a glance up on the roof – the transmission disc was raised and rotating. Perfect. That meant that the distress call was being sent out as it should be. He turned his back on the EEV and started to walk away, determined not to look behind. He would never see it again.

For twenty minutes Hicks made sure to cover a relatively safe distance away from the escape vehicle. He soon found a rock formation on top of a cliff where he had a view over the horizon. He decided that this was the spot – it was there he was going to await his final moment. He sat down on the rocks, opened the bottle and took a swig from it. The liquid burned in his throat, but hopefully it should give the soothing effect he sought that was required for when he would do his final act in life. It wasn't intended to dull his fear though, because strangely enough he didn't feel any. Although he had reached the end of his life, he was strangely calm about it. He had done what was needed to be done in his life; there was no point in feeling regret about anything. Except perhaps for one thing…

He would've liked the chance to find his son despite the court-order from his ex-wife. Whatever her opinion was, it would have been right for John to know the truth about who his father really were and allow him to make his own decisions about judgment of character.

But perhaps that wouldn't have been possible now anyway – as far as the family he had previously married himself into were concerned, Hicks was dead since three years back. As he would be in a couple of minutes…

He took another sip of the bottle. He had no fear of his own death, but he couldn't help to wonder if it was worth it. - _I'm dying to prevent the birth of a monster that would spell doom for millions of people._ Yes, it was worth it.

_\- My death in exchange for millions of people. How's that for manhood, Sarah?_

In the distance far away, he could just make out the u-shape of the derelict resting on the plateau. And even farther away in the sky, a spot of fire was beginning to show itself. Hicks knew that it was the _Hercules_ on its final approach – soon the derelict would be no more than a memory, along with its terrible cargo.

Hicks saluted the spot in the sky with his bottle. "Cheers, Bishop," he said before he took another swig. This time it didn't go down his throat because he suddenly felt a great pain within his chest, so intense that he spitted out the alcohol. Something was moving within his body and was causing a massive hurt against his bones.

So… it was time.

He dropped the bottle and it smashed against the cliff, splattering the remaining liquid over the rocks. He fished out the grenade he had in his pocket and with determination to die by his own hands and not by some monster's, he pulled the pin and a counter on the handle was starting down from ten seconds. Another jolt of pain coursed through his body. The queen was about to be born, but it would not have the privilege of life. Hicks held the rifle in one hand, and with the other he pressed the grenade to his chest, right over the spot where the queen monster would emerge.

He groaned from the pain that had now become quite excruciating, but he still smiled in triumph as he watched the counter on the grenade reach the last numbers. Taking a last breath, he spat at the creature within him.

"Cheers, _Bitch!_"

* * *

The small explosion on the surface was not detected by the sensors of the _Hercules_. Not only because it was far away beyond the derelict in the distance, but because those sensors were inoperative. The readouts on the console couldn't be seen anyway as the bridge now was amidst the scattered junk nothing but fire and smoke. And within the smoke, the android Bishop was in futility trying to make the big ship just drop slightly in altitude even though it was too late now.

"_Warning! Collision imminent! Impact in twenty seconds._" The ships computer announced neutrally.

For naught! All had been for naught! Bishop may be a synthetic, but he was actually feeling the frustration of failure overwhelm him. And the smugness of Colonel Decker was like the ultimate insult to be added to this fact.

"Do you know what the irony is?" Decker asked him from one of the two still functioning screens. The other showed how the _Hercules_ traveled above the surface of the planet. "You yourself orchestrated the means to allow me to retain full control of this ship. If you hadn't disabled all the non-essential systems before, I just might have had too much to handle before I could assume total control. You messed up, _Robot!_ You messed up big!"

"_Warning! Impact in ten seconds._"

On the second screen, Bishop could see in despair how the _Hercules_ passed above the derelict, leaving it behind them.

"_Five seconds._"

The digital face of Decker glared at Bishop from his screen. "See you in hell, _Robot!_"

"_Three…_"

For the first time in his existence, Bishop allowed his program to simulate one of the few emotions he normally would never allow to be shown amongst human beings. But if there was anybody who deserved to take the full force of that emotion, it was that insult of a faulty model of a synthetic that had gone against all what Bishop believed in. It took only a quarter of a second for the force of the emotion build up within him, and he allowed it to explode in the digital face of the synthetic military officer as an act of a final curse.

"DECKER! GOD DAMN YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU…"

"_One…_"

* * *

**Epilogue.**

The sun rose over the hills of the desolated wasteland of the planet designated as LV-426, but also known by its former inhabitants as Acheron. It could not be considered to be a beautiful dawn as it was obscured by the flying dust and particles that was carried around by the almost constant winds that raged around the small world, but there was no one around to complain. As the day went by, the rays from the sun found a momentarily open spot in the clouds so that those could bombard the smooth surface of the alien derelict, making the metal to glimmer. It meant nothing to the dead and abandoned craft, and it meant even less to the last surviving claw-attached eggs which had never been picked up from the dark protective cargo-hold– the parasites within the ovoid shells were totally dormant and unaware of anything that went on outside the ship.

During midday the wind increased in force and snuffed out the last fires of the obliterated military vessel that had crashed a few kilometers away from its intended target – the parts of that once proud ship lay scattered all over an area which could match the size of the crater left behind when the atmosphere processing station had exploded. Because it had missed its target, the alien derelict had survived undamaged once more, but a small deserted life-boat had fared a little worse. Since the big ship had crash-landed further away then where it had supposed to, it had impacted to the ground too close to the smaller vessel – and the concussion of the explosion had caused damage to the exterior of its hull.

A few meters away from the EEV lay the wrinkled remains of a transmission disc – it had been blown off by the shockwave. And when it had been knocked off, the tearing of the circuits had caused a feedback to the transmitter inside the little ship, causing it to malfunction and in the end cease to operate. The sole young survivor of the lost expedition was blissfully unaware of this as she slept undisturbed in her cryogenic sarcophagus while her bodily temperature continued to drop below the freezing point. The interior had not sustained any damage, but from the looks of the dead controls at the helm, a rescue did not seem likely any time soon.

As the sun went down below the horizon, the last rays of the day shined through the viewport and temporarily illuminated the silhouette of the planet's lone inhabitant under the transparent faceplate. That was how the days would look like as they would come and go from this moment on. Within the life-boat, only the wind could be heard smashing against the hull – otherwise it was all quiet. And as the sunrays went away and left the EEV in total darkness once more, it was evident that for a long time ahead everything would be just quiet…

THE END

* * *

Author's notes: It ends the way it started; with the silence of death. It probably does seem odd that I go through all the trouble to revive those three just to kill off two of them again. It's because when I wrote this story I wanted to retain the darkness and drama that symbolized the Alien-franchise, even if it meant killing of some of the main characters. But are they dead?

When I write my stories, I often have back-up plots in the back of my mind - and even if it doesn't seem possible, I actually have a way to save Hicks again... I can even save Bishop. That depends if you who've just read my story wants to see that. Feel free to review and give me your thoughts. That will make the setting-stone on my next book when I finally find the chance to begin writing it. I hope that you have enjoyed this one...


	24. Teaser: Alien - Nemesis

Author's notes:

I am suffering from a writers block, so I took the decision to upload a part of the first chapter of my sequel: 'Alien - Nemesis' to see what kind of reaction I might receive. I'll point out again that this below is only part of the first chapter, there is much more that is excluded so that I will not give away too much in advance. It is mainly an action scene that begins a few month after the events of 'Alien: resurrection' to mark a time-frame in which the story will take place.

Let's see how you like it. Positive response might help me to unlock this writer's lock...

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Summary:

Ever since the destruction of the _Auriga_, the science vessel where she was reborn, Ellen Ripley has begun a self-appointed mission to eradicate every single trace and records of the monster that was the cause of her death two-hundred years earlier. But her quest causes her to lose her humanity to the alien part of her physiology which has become a permanent addition to her cloned genetic make-up. Slowly turning more wild and aggressive and becoming more like the beast that was her nemesis, the crew of the _Betty_ is at loss how they can help her regain the morality that was once her greatest strength. So when the superiors of the scientists responsible for her resurrection finds a surviving source of the xenomorphic life-form on the same planet where they were first discovered, the question rises if Ripley will attempt to eradicate the monsters or if she decides to take them for her own and completely abandon her humanity to become the mother of all aliens. Little do any of them know that a little girl of Ripley's past lies abandoned on that planet as well, forgotten by both time and people…

* * *

The ship came first. It had earlier been picked up by the monitors and it had not responded to hails – that's when the computer-jockeys was first put to alert. Their job was to locate the slave-circuit of the approaching vessel and activate the cruise-override. Every vehicle of the twenty-fourth century was entitled by law to be equipped with a slave-circuit should the need to seize control of the ship by remote come up, either in docking-procedures or to fend off a terrorist attack. Once a connection was established, the controller would get full information of ship-registration and crew-status and then it would be up to the lawyers to file a formal charge against the aggressors. But no slave-circuit could be found within this vessel and that led to only two possibilities. The first thought was that the ship was a military vessel which would not allow a civilian program to access their systems - but that possibility was quickly discarded. No military would do an unsanctioned attack of any kind to a civilian establishment just out of the blue. If the military was after something, then they would use their jurisdiction to confiscate it first if it was a matter of national security. But no such threat hanged over (Classified), so it had to be possibility number two they were faced with: a rogue, unregistered ship was on approach – a ship built in an era before slave-circuits were applied. That's when the outside defense force was scrambled. The people of the defense team quickly set up a perimeter that matched military precision – several trucks rolled out and dropped several piles of sandbags in a ring around the front of the building and machine-guns mounted on tripods were quickly positioned behind those. They were ready to receive the aggressors.

The craft was old, battered and quite ugly, but it was highly maneuverable. As soon as it came in over (Classified)'s grounds, it halted in midair and hovered over the heads of the security personal. Shots from the ground were fired, but the ship dropped several canisters from its hold that cracked open as they hit the tarmac and the people on the ground found themselves within a vapor-cloud of anesthetic gas. That move had been unexpected, so none had time to put on any gas-masks - they all dropped like flies.

The jet-streams from the ship dispersed the sleeping-cloud as it descended closer to ground-level, which effectively had cleared the air of gas at the time when the ship took ground and the pirates disembarked to immediately rush towards the main entrance of the building.

It wasn't possible for the assaulters to gain entry into the foyer. As soon as the alarm went off and the outside response team had been compromised, thick security shields had fallen down from inside the concrete walls and blocked every door and window. There was no way for the pirates to break through solid steel – at least not in theory. In reality it turned out that the pirates was well prepared as well as resourceful.

One man went up to the blast-shield first and placed a shaped charge against the steel. It wasn't detonated though. If they attempted that while the bomb was plainly out in the open, the explosive charge would just be directed outwards and hardly make a dent in the protective barrier. But now the pirates took the sandbags that had been positioned earlier on the perimeter and they carried them over to the entrance and began to pile those against the shield.

From the central observations lounge within the building, the C.E.O. of the (Classified) office Derek Miller was watching what was happening outside on a monitor that right now showed the images from an external camera.

"What are they up to now?" Miller asked his head of security, struggling to keep his voice in check so that he would not reveal to the employees around him how nervous he really was. "Surely they don't think that a pile of sandbags will help them blast through eight inches of steel?"

"It might, Sir." The H.O.S. said through gritted teeth. "They're attempting to use that stack of sacks as a concussion wall to direct the blast towards the shield. Whoever those pirates are, at least some of them know a thing or two about explosive directional stress mechanics!"

"Haven't you made contact with the local authorities yet?" the C.E.O. nearly roared at the computer personal. "We need assistance!"

"I'm sorry, Sir," one responded apologetically. "All the lines are still jammed."

The executive turned back to the monitor. "Is it possible that they can break through the shield?" he asked his security chief.

"They will need to somehow fixate the sacks in position before they set off the bomb or the blast will throw the sacks away from the shield in every direction. Hopefully it should do nothing more but to bulge the steel inwards and keep preventing the pirates from getting in. It all depends on how far their knowledge goes," the other replied. They watched on the screen how the pirates continued to carry the sandbags over to the growing pile at the entrance. The sacks were so heavy that it required least two men to carry each, but to the head's silent astonishment, one of them was able to carry a sack all by herself. The receiving picture was bad quality, but that one person definitely looked slender enough to be a woman.

The chief looked a little closer at the pile. Two of the pirates who looked like they were a twin of each other had stopped carrying bags and was instead building a crude fence-like structure to enclose the pile against the shield. They braced the whole rig to the pile with supportive beams which they anchored into the tarmac. The H.O.S. looked over to his boss. "Yep. That will do it!" he said with complete assurance to the outcome.

"And they're using my own sandbags to do this breaking and entering!" Miller bursts out totally frustrated. "This is _intolerable!_ What are we going to do?"

"Only one thing to do:" the head said calmly, raising a radio to his face. "I'm telling the men in the lobby to take cover and cover their ears. There's quite a big bang coming up – and then that they're about to be engaged in a firefight."

The head of security's orders was issued a little too late: the guards that was posted on the far back of the foyer managed to find shelter in time – but the ones positioned closest to the entrance was swept off their feet as the door blew and they were rendered unconscious. The explosion was so powerful that it shook the whole building.

From the smoking remains that was once the main entrance and a blast-shield made of steel, the pirates rushed in with weapons blazing. The main aggressor of that first wave came in grinning – a hideous looking grin because of the ragged scar that crossed his face.

"You didn't invite us, so we _crashed!_" he shouted, laughing. It wasn't like the remaining security troopers could hear him anyway as their ears were ringing badly after the loud boom. From behind the laughing man, another person came in through the smoke and dust. You couldn't believe that this small woman was actually a pirate: her features were delicate and soft-looking, and it was with genuine concern in her eyes that she addressed her companion.

"Just incapacitate them, Johner!" she reminded him. "Don't kill anyone; they're just doing their jobs!"

Johner turned to her with an irritated expression on his ugly face. "Get off my back, Annalee!" he growled. "It is my _job_ to hurt people!" Annalee Call knew that whenever Johner made use of her surname it was not a formality, but mainly to patronize her. He had no real respect for the woman and he would most likely never have any. But then again, Johner didn't exactly feel respect for anyone or anything - that was all in his nature. God, despite everything which they had been through, she still loathed that man.

The security guards did not have the ability to hear right now, but they could still see their adversaries. From behind the lobby's desks that were their respective shelters they opened fire and forced the pirates to take cover of their own. Bullets strafed all over the foyer and kept everybody on either side pinned down where they were.

"Can anyone take them out?" Johner called over the noise.

"Negative!" one of the twins, Keevan Felger answered. "They're huddling behind the corners like moles hiding in their holes. I can't get a bead on them!"

"Well then, gas ém!" Johner ordered.

"Ryan's the one carrying the gas-launcher," the other twin Naavek Felger informed the burly man.

"Well, where's _he?_"

"I think he's still outside. I didn't see him come in with us."

"That bloody coward!" Johner roared. "How does he expect to fit in with us if he's so afraid to take part of some action?" He crouched down lower as some bullets began to get too close to him.

"Johner," Call called out. "I think we may have to…" But then she stopped herself as she glanced towards the ruined entrance. "Uh–oh!"

The smoke and dust of concrete had cleared from the doorway the pirates had blasted through and from the rubble a new player entered, walking in without rush, but with determined strides. She stood tall, almost regal in her sleeveless leather jumpsuit. A stern face was framed by a mass of brown locks that reached below her shoulders, and her dark eyes revealed a piercing gaze from between squinted lids as she surveyed the situation, registering it all in one single sweep. Without saying a word or changing expression, she marched passed her comrades and strode down the aisle of the lobby, totally ignorant to the fact that several flesh-piercing projectiles flew past her at a high velocity.

"Someone should tell the lady that she isn't bulletproof," the first twin said.

"Are you volunteering for that?" Johner asked. The man remained silent. Meanwhile Call was watching after the other woman with fear growing in her eyes – but no one knew that it wasn't the newcomer's safety she was concerned about.

The pirates could not even guess how the tall woman could walk through a field of weapons-fire without taking a single hit, and neither could the guards who was defending the facility – they would have plenty of time to ponder about it in hospital. The woman reached the receptionist's desk where two of the guards had taken shelter. She reached over the counter, grabbed the harness of the protective west on the first man and then she pulled him up from the floor and hurled him over her head and made him fly screaming across the room. The unfortunate man crashed into the wall on the far end and he fell to the floor where he remained unmoving. His partner behind the desk barely had time to respond; he was adjusting his aim when the woman spun back around towards him and grabbed his rifle. She tugged out of his hands and used the weapon as a club to hit the guard across his jaw and knock him out.

There was another counter behind her on the other side of the lobby's aisle with two more guards sheltering underneath. Having witnessed what the female intruder had done to their colleagues, they determined that she was a bigger threat than those who huddled near the entrance. They reached up over the edge of the counter and fired, but to their astonishment the woman sidestepped the strafe of bullets, moving faster than anyone could've expected a human-being to be able to.

The desk the guards crouched under was heavy – it required the man-power of several to move it. But that law of physics didn't seem to apply to the woman. She gave the counter a swift kick to make it topple - the heavy desk flipped over and crashed down over the guards, pinning them underneath. Her stern facial expression hadn't changed the slightest during the battle. It was like she didn't care for either victory or defeat. The guards were just obstacles that stood in the way and she simply dealt with them – harshly and without mitigation. A fifth unlucky guard was next to experience that fact.

The back wall of the lobby left a pathway leading to the elevators. At the end of the seven meter-long corridor another employee of the security team took cover behind the left-side corner and released several bursts of his own - but as with the others before him, he missed. The woman still had possession of the rifle she had captured from the second guard and which she now threw like a spear down the corridor, butt-end first. Her aim was accurate with precision. The rifle hit the man square in the face just as he leaned out to release another burst, broke his nose and knocked out some teeth in the process. He flew backwards and became a heap on the floor, not getting up. Smoke from gunpowder hanged in the air, but the firefight had ceased. All was now calm in the lobby.

"I thought you said it was _your_ job to hurt people, Johner." The second twin stated as he watched the result of the woman's rampage.

"Don't try to get smart, Felger!" the scarred man snapped.

The woman took no apparent notice of the words exchanged. She only walked down the corridor like if she was heading towards a goal known only to her.

"Wait!" Call called out after her. "There may be another…" Her warning came too late. From the right side corner at the end of the corridor a sixth guard jumped out with a raised gun and released a widespread shot at close range. The woman attempted to jump out of the way, but she had no time to do it as the attack had been so sudden. She was knocked backwards a bit as she was hit – she staggered… but she did not fall. She didn't even cry out. To the guard's astonishment she straightened up and looked down at her arm. The flesh above her left elbow had been perforated by the hail-storm of the man's shot – blood had sprayed and splattered on the wall beside her.

Finally a reaction came from the woman, but it would have been better for the guard if it hadn't. She looked up silently and glared at him. Her face showed no trace of pain, or even fear. Instead it creased into a mask of pure rage. Before the guard had time to fire another shot, the woman was over him. A knuckle that felt hard as steel crashed into his face, but he did not fall as she held him up by his collar. And then she hit him again… and again… and again…

"RIPLEY!" Annalee Call, the petite woman rushed up to the taller and more powerful female and grabbed her by her arm which she was manhandling the guard with. "_Ripley, stop it!_"

Ripley let go of the guard who crumbled beyond consciousness to the floor, but she'd let go only to grab the smaller girl by her throat, making her the target of her fury.

"Ripley… you were trying to kill that man…" Call wheezed out from under the grip on her windpipe

"He tried to kill _me!_" she replied with a low and dangerous tone.

"Hey, Ripley. Let go." Johner said, coming towards them. "She's your friend, remember?" But he did not try to persuade Ripley any further than that. He too had had a taste of the woman's wrath from time to time, and he had no wish to experience it again in the near future.

"Don't… sink to his level," Call choked out trying to reason with her. "Remember who… you are. Re… member your morality… Ellen!"

With a snort that resembled a sound of disgust, Ripley let go of the smaller woman and walked ahead, apparently set on following her original plan. She simply stepped over the man she had beaten, not sparing him a single glance. One of the Felger twins stepped up to Call. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, fine," she gasped. "Don't worry about it."

"Hey, Naavek," his brother Keevan said. "Look at this." The other twin was staring on the wall, on the spots where Ripley's blood had splattered. Underneath the crimson-colored fluid, the wall was bubbling and sizzling. The twins witnessed how the material melted away and left tiny holes on the surface.

"That's another thing you're going to have to get used to if you are to hang around with us." Johner said plainly, as if it wasn't a big deal.

* * *

End of teaser.


End file.
